The Funny Thing About Keys
by Patricia de Lioncourt
Summary: When Buffy is poisoned and dying, Dawn is left no choice but to go to Gotham for the cure that she is told is too dangerous to retrieve. Time is on her side... too bad the universe isn't.
1. Poison

A/N- This new one was actually inspired by a fanart I did. I've been wanting to do a fic like this one for a while now, so I'm happy that a solid idea finally formed. Now, just a note. The timeline is post-season 7 of Buffy with a few things taken from the comics. Nothing major is coming from the comics' storyline, just some details. As for Batman: the Animated Series, this is coming from season four, disregarding the Justice League series. Also, I've always wanted to write a fic where I used song titles as the chapter titles… turns out, this is just the fic. If you want, you can try to guess the artist that the song is by. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer- I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That belongs to Whedon. I also do not own Batman or any related character. That belongs to WB and DC Comics. I am making no money off of this, trust me. This applies to all chapters.

* * *

Chapter 1- Poison

It was important. More than that, it was urgent. Or at least, "urgent" was what Xander's voicemail on her cell had said on the warm—nearly hot—Monday morning she had decided to check it.

"Come home as soon as possible. It's urgent, Dawnie. It's about Buffy," was what the simple, short message had said… in a rather strained voice.

Of course it was about Buffy. It was always about Buffy. And Dawn didn't mean that in the bratty way she used to say it. Her sister was the Slayer… the Head Slayer, in charge of an army of young women and girls who all possessed the strength her sister had had since she was fifteen. If anything was happening at Slayer HQ—or "home" as Xander had called it… Dawn just liked to think of it as "the huge, cold, unloving stone castle in Scotland"—her sister was most probably the cause of it, or at least involved.

So, after hearing that message, Dawn had rolled out of her extended twin-sized bed in her tiny closet of a dorm room and gotten dressed in a simple pair of jeans, a light long sleeve—it may not be cold in San Francisco, but she still wore long-sleeves… it was late November, nearly December, after all—and pulled her hair—cut to mid-back instead of the length she used to wear it—into a high ponytail. Before her roommate had even begun to wake up, Dawn had been out and across the campus, entering the building her professors all had offices in. To each one of her four teachers, she had explained her situation. Thankfully, she was able to persuade each one of them to give her the finals early. Which was lucky, as this was only her first semester in college… they could have told her that she wouldn't be able to handle an early final. By Thursday of that next week, she was in her current seat in coach on a plane that was minutes from landing. She had called Xander to have her meet her at the airport before she had taken flight.

The flight attendants had ushered forward their most bubbly, chesty blonde to walk around, making sure that everyone was wearing their seatbelts like the sign said they should. The woman, who was taller even than Dawn, smiled down at her as she motioned to her seatbelt, locked snugly about her thin waist. By the time the attendant was back up at the front of the plane, the captain had announced that they had begun landing. Sighing, Dawn laid her head back against the headrest.

Between that Monday morning and now, Dawn had received no further calls with any further details from any of the other Scoobies. At first, she had panicked. After all, Xander had said "urgent," right? As the week had progressed, she had relaxed. No news was good news, she had decided as she had boarded the plane. Now as she could clearly see the concrete runway stretching out below her—why had she gotten a window seat?—she was beginning to get rather panicked again. The plane's wheels touched ground, and although it barely moved, Dawn jumped as if she had just been thrown forward—causing the gaunt-looking business man in the seat next to her to stare. She hated planes. The faster she got to the cold, unforgiving castle full of bubbly, excitable girls her age, and off this thing, the better.

**…………………**

The drive from the airport to the castle had been pleasant. Xander had been there—eye patch, commando-like black gear, and all—to pick her up as promised. But it did nothing to ease Dawn's worries. Xander had questioned her on college life, boys, and any other generally meaningless thing he could think of from airport to the moment he was helping her unload her luggage just inside the castle's courtyard. He was deliberately avoiding talking about the reason she was here, and it made her stomach twist.

"Well, Dawnie, I'm glad you're liking college," he said as he pulled her large, brown leather suitcase from trunk to ground. "I was never a college man myself, as you know. But it's important, I guess, to get that old sheepskin. Prove that you have had the proper training to be a helpful member to society and all that. Go after—"

"Xander!" she squealed at him.

He stopped, mid-word and mouth agape. His single eye blinked as she shook her head, her lips downturned.

"What's going on? Why am I here? Where's Buffy?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Oh, that," he said, the words falling like a stone. "That… can wait. Why don't we get you set up first?"

Xander picked up the first thing his hand touched—her lavender backpack, which she had used as her carry-on on the plane—and rushed past her, heading towards the giant, fragile looking oaken doors that led to the main foyer of the castle. However, with one quick leap, Dawn threw herself in his path, placing her hands on his shoulders to make sure he didn't try to move around again. Her eyes narrowed, searching him as he looked away from her.

"You're scaring me," she said softly. "I want to see Buffy. Now."

He nodded after a moment or two, gesturing towards the castle's looming figure.

"She's in the infirmary room on the sixth floor. You know the one… you helped Willow set it up. I'll take your stuff to your room," he said, his voice still that heavy tone.

Dawn watched as he moved, a little slower now, and began to gather her stuff. Something was wrong. _Really_ wrong. Losing no more time, she turned and ran into the castle. She took the stairs two at a time and only paused after a couple of flights, when her legs were in a desperate need of a rest. Then, finally, she mounted the last few staircases, ran the length of a hall in no time, and all but flung herself into the infirmary room.

Two pairs of eyes—Buffy's and another Slayer's—met hers. It took a moment, but Dawn finally realized that Buffy was the one laying on the bed, with the Slayer she didn't recognize tending to her. Her sister looked fine, for all intents and purposes. Her jeans and white blouse were a little dirty, and there was a small cut offset to the right on her forehead… but she didn't look like she had been mauled or anything.

Buffy smiled, sitting up and putting her feet on the floor. The unnamed Slayer moved to stop her, but Buffy snapped a quick, "I'm getting up, move before I roundhouse your ass."

The Slayer squeaked a "yes, ma'am," and moved. Buffy stood and threw out her arms to embrace her sister. Dawn dashed forward and met her halfway.

"Buffy, what's wrong? Xander said it was urgent and about you. Then he babbled and wouldn't tell me anything. Are you all right?" Dawn spoke, very quickly, into her sister's shoulder.

Buffy pushed her sister gently back, holding her at arm's length. She smiled up at her and, for half a second, Dawn would have sworn that she had gotten even shorter. Buffy turned from her, after a moment, and motioned for the other Slayer in the room to leave. The young girl bustled out as if she had just been screamed at. Dawn watched as the door shut behind her before turning back and following Buffy over to the bed.

"That's new… the fear," she said as Buffy took a seat on the edge of the bed while Dawn pulled up the chair stationed on the bed's right.

"She's not scared of me, Dawnie. She's scared _for_ me, I think," her sister said in the voice Dawn liked to call her "the end of the world" voice… it was solemn and kind of weary.

She narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong? Why isn't anyone telling me anything?"

"Dawn… I don't know any way to put this lightly, so I'm just going to come out and say this. Promise not to wig out?"

Dawn made the motion of crossing her heart, her eyes glued on her sister's frowning face. Buffy took a deep breath and released it in a sigh. Looking her right in the eye, the Slayer got to the point.

"Dawn, I'm dying. I was poisoned in a fight, and there's no cure."

The world stopped turning. Everything around Dawn seemed frozen in place while her mind, meanwhile, was racing. A million and one memories flew through her mind: Buffy pushing her on the swing in the park after their parents' divorce, Buffy saving her life for the millionth time… Buffy telling her that their mother was dead. And that final thought brought Dawn back to the present as her mind replayed the words her sister had just spoken. She wanted to scream, cry, jump up from her chair and throw it. But she could get her body to do none of those things. Instead, she just slumped back, her gaze unfocused.

"Dawn?" Buffy asked, gently placing a hand on hers.

Dawn could feel the tears coming now. She looked at Buffy—or rather, at her forehead… she couldn't quite make herself look her in the eye. It would be too real if she saw Buffy's eyes.

"How?" she just managed to say.

"A fight. Some baddie lured me into a trap, hid, and shot me with a dart laced with the poison. He was a real cloak-and-dagger type of guy, too. He was heavy-set… and tall. That's all I could tell you. But he got me."

"How long?"

"Oh, I'll be alive for a while now. I mean… less than a year… but more than hours."

Dawn couldn't help it. She knew it was terribly inappropriate. But she laughed. Thankfully, Buffy laughed with her.

"That's real informative, Buffy!" she snapped in her laugher.

"I know. I'm sorry! In all honestly, I think I have about six or seven months, according to Giles and Willow," Buffy said, sitting back against the headboard of the bed.

Dawn's laughter stopped as quickly as it had started. All seriousness once again, her eyes narrowed.

"So… how are you feeling? Does it… hurt?"

Buffy shook her head, a wry smile on her face. "Right now, I just feel kind of tired. It'll get worse… but it's a super slow-mo type of poison."

"What type of poison did this guy use, that it has no cure, Buff?"

"Mystical. Totally home-manufactured, mystical poison."

A beat of silence followed this as Dawn's head continued to try and wrap her mind around this. Her sister, the indestructible, "I've-died-twice" Buffy… was dying. And slowly. And probably painfully in the long run. Well, Dawn wouldn't have it. She pushed herself out of her chair, staring down at a confused-face Buffy.

"Are you sure there's no cure? I mean, who creates a poison and doesn't create a cure! It doesn't make sense!" she said as she heard the heavy doors of the infirmary open behind her.

She gave a quick glance over her shoulder to see Xander and Willow enter. Willow—flow-y, olive green, peasant dress and all—swiftly wrapped her arms around Dawn's shoulders. Dawn returned hug, pushing back after a few seconds.

"Buffy, there has to be a cure," she said.

She watched as Willow and Xander exchanged a quick glance.

"There's not one," Buffy said sternly.

"Well, not one that—" Xander began, but stopped with harsh looks from the red-haired witch and pissed-looking Slayer.

"What?" Dawn pressed. She let her eyes pass over all three of them before they came back to rest on Xander. "What aren't you telling me? I'm not a child anymore. I'm in college for crying out loud! What is it, Xander?"

"Not one… that we have yet. Will's working very hard on the matter," he finished, lamely.

"Yes, I am. Working very hard on the mystical poison antidote. Nose to the grindstone and all," Willow was quick to add.

"You're lying to me," Dawn snapped, her eyes glaring down at her sister.

"No, we're not. Will is working very hard on this," Buffy said, her eyes on Xander.

Dawn glanced back at him as he averted his one eye away. She shook her head. It was as if she was in some alternate dimension where the Scoobies didn't give a damn if one of their own was dying or in need. She whirled back on her sister, angry tears rolling off her cheeks.

"I don't understand. Why won't any of you tell me? And why won't any of you go after this cure?"

"Dawn, listen to me. There's not one. Okay? End of discussion. Now, you've had a long flight. Go unpack, and we'll hang out when you get done. That sound good?" Buffy said as gently and as sternly as she could manage.

"I'll find out what you're hiding. I always do," she snapped before turning and striding out of the room.

She was halfway up the cold, stone hall when a thought occurred. As silently as she could, she turned back and tiptoed her way all the way back to the infirmary, stopping just before she reached the door. Leaning as far over as she dared, she strained her ears, trying to catch whatever her sister and her friends were saying.

"Dawn's right, Buffy. I just wanted to say that, for the record," she heard Xander say.

"I have to agree. I mean, _I_ could go after the cure," Willow's voice added.

"No. It's too dangerous for anyone to go, Will."

"Do you really think that I can't handle it?"

"No. I know you with all your witchy badassness could probably do it… but the key word there is 'probably.' Look, this guy is dangerous. More dangerous, maybe, than some of the baddies we've faced."

"Guy?" Dawn mouthed. The cure was a person? Was that why Buffy didn't want anyone to go after it? Was it another "key" situation? Kill the guy, get the cure? Or was it really that someone, some human, could be _that_ dangerous?

"I find that hard to believe," Xander scoffed.

"I've read all about him since Giles told me. You never know what he'll do. No, he's not a vampire, he's not magical, but he is still dangerous. And I'm not having anyone risking their life over this… over me. I'd go myself, but Giles doesn't think that sending a sick Slayer out is wise."

"What about one of the other hundred or so Slayers we have here?" Willow asked.

"No. None are trained enough to deal with this guy. End of discussion, guys. No one goes after him."

And with that, the topic changed. Dawn leaned back against the darkened stone wall. Giles knew what the cure was? They all knew? And they wouldn't tell her? Why?

A lightbulb went off in Dawn's head. Giles was the key to solving her problem… In the past few years, the former-Watcher had done some things that were not quite to Buffy's liking. If she could weasel what—or rather, who—the cure was out of anyone, it would be Giles. Once again, moving as quietly as possible, Dawn disappeared towards the western half of the castle… where Giles kept his room and library.

* * *

End Notes: Well, I know we didn't get much of the other 'verse in this chapter, and I apologize for that. We'll get mention of it in the next chapter. I hope everyone liked this. Please review!


	2. Renegade

A/N- A warm thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Oh, and I'm sure that everyone figures this… but generally, all the "Batman as fictional character" references in Buffy are to be disregarded. Now, to get a few more answers… and a lot more questions.

* * *

Chapter 2- Renegade

Dawn's sneakers squealed on the stone floor as she came to a halt so close to Giles's door that her nose was almost touching it. She gave a couple of quick glances over her shoulders—wondering vaguely why anyone would be following her if she had done her sneaking well enough—and knocked a couple of times, hard. She didn't bother waiting for an answer as she pushed the door open and peeked her head in. For a moment, she realized that this might have been a bad idea. Giles could have been in the middle of something that she _so_ didn't want to see. After all, she had just learned that her sister was dying… she didn't need another mental scarring like "Naked Giles" to join in.

Thankfully, Giles was good ol', fully-dressed, musty book reading Giles. He turned from his place at a rather large, very well equipped writing desk and blinked at her. With one hand, he closed the large, yellowed tome he had been reading and stood, smiling softly at her.

"Have you seen Buffy?" he asked.

"Tactful. And here I thought the British were nothing but tact… but, yeah, I've seen her. And I've heard. That's kind of why I'm here," Dawn replied, entering the room fully and shutting the door behind her.

With a sigh, the former Watcher whipped his glasses off and began to clean their lenses almost compulsively.

"I'm sorry. You're right. How are you, Dawn?" he asked, replacing his glasses.

He pulled around the desk's chair to face the foot of his spacious bed as he took his seat there. Dawn crossed the room and plopped down into the chair. Sighing, she shrugged.

"Other than the dying sister that nobody seems to want to cure, I'm cool. Couldn't be better," she quipped.

Giles almost visibly winced.

"Dawn, there's no cure. Surely they told you that?"

She crossed her arms and cocked her head just barely to the right. Rolling her eyes, she frowned.

"I'll call bullshit. Want to try again?"

Giles blinked and seemed to be on the verge of scolding her for her use of language. Dawn set her face, ready to give her best "I'm-an-adult-and-in-college" argument, should he begin to lecture her. However, his argument seemed to die in his throat.

"Dawn. I don't know what to say. There's no cure… no way to save her. If there was, I would—"

"Xander started to say that there was one. And I overheard Buffy, Willow, and Xander all talking about some guy who, apparently, is the cure or can cure it or something. So, just knock it off, Giles, and spill. What's going on? Why isn't anyone going after this cure?"

Giles pulled off his glasses and began to clean them again. Dawn had to fight hard against knocking them out of his hands and yelling at him to stop it. However, the urge passed as he reached around her to set them on the desk. Clasping his hands and resting his arms on his lap, he shook his head.

"Fine. If you've heard that much, then you've heard how dangerous the 'cure' is. Buffy doesn't want anyone to go after him that she doesn't think can handle it," he said, quietly.

Dawn leaned forward, staring the older man right in the eyes. "So, the cure _is_ a person? How? And why is that stopping everyone? I heard Buffy say that he's in no way mystical… this shouldn't be stopping us."

"It is your sister's… wish that none of us put ourselves in harm's way for this cure. We should honor that."

"Since when do you honor Buffy's wishes all the time? I mean, were you honoring them when you tried to kill Spike? Or when you left for England?"

Giles stood, glaring down at her. "That's not fair. I did those things because I truly believed they were the right things to do."

Dawn stood as well, and although she was still shorter than him, she stared him down as if there was no difference at all.

"And going after this cure is the right thing to do. Buffy is my sister, and she's like a daughter to you. We love her. But if that's not enough to convince you to want to save her… she's also now the leader of an untold number of Slayers, with more being found every day. There's not a Slayer here who could handle that, train them, as well as Buffy could. Not Faith, not Kennedy, not Vi… none of them. She's the only one who can do it. She _needs_ to live."

At that, they both simply stood there for a moment, as if seeing who would blink first. Finally, Giles sank back onto the bed. With a half-hearted motion, he directed that Dawn should sit as well.

"You're right, of course. And I'm sure you are aware that this exchange must stay between us?" he asked, sparing a second's glance at his door.

Dawn nodded. "Yeah. Now, what's going on?"

Giles took a deep breath, and then went into full Watcher lecture mode.

"To understand how this man that we'll be speaking of is the cure, you must understand how it all came to be. Which means, first let me tell you of the creator of both the poison and the antidote. He was a powerfully dark magician by the name of William Cane. His specialty was potions, of all shapes and sizes, but mostly deadly. He was known to make poisons and sell them to the highest bidder, be it vampire, demon, or any other creature that happened to learn about him. So, the Watcher's Council tried to stop him. He managed to escape and hide… but years later, after his death, the Council learned what had become of him."

Dawn listened in silence, waiting for the moment of revelation to come. As the story stood so far, she had no idea where Giles was going with any of this.

"Come to find out," he continued, "Cane had jumped the pond to the States, settling himself inside Gotham City. There, using the generous funds he had acquired selling his potions and poisons, he set up a business to act as a cover for his magically dealings. Which, as you know, is rather common for magicians on the run to do."

"Like Ethan Rayne with the costume shop and the band candy?" Dawn asked.

"Precisely. A rather ingenious cover, I might add, as no one would have thought twice to seeing large quantities of oddly colored liquid just lying around."

"Okay…" Dawn said slowly. "So, how does this end up with some guy being the cure to this poison?"

"Well, as most realize, it's rather stupid to create a special poison—like the one Buffy was hit with—without creating its antidote."

"What if someone turns it against you… I get it."

"Right," Giles said, smiling briefly at her, apparently pleased to see that she was keeping up. "Well, Cane dedicated some of his resources to creating the antidote, which he did, successfully. The problem was that the antidote by itself was just as deadly as the poison. Together, the two cancel each other out… but separate… well, the antidote, I daresay, is actually far deadlier. Death was almost instantaneous. He tried it out on no less than fifteen subjects, all of whom died. The poison is meant for a slow death… best for exacting revenge. The antidote was more of like a quick fix to any such problem. Well, as time went on, the company grew and was more than able to maintain itself."

Dawn's brow furrowed. "What did he disguise it as? His company?"

"A chemical factory. Have no idea what he said the 'chemicals' he made was supposed to do, but no one seemed to question that. I suspect he bewitched any who asked into avoiding just such a question. Now, as I was saying, the antidote is deadly. And, currently, none in its pure form has survived."

Now Dawn's eyes widened. "Then, how are we supposed to be able to cure Buffy?"

"Patience. I'm getting to it. The antidote, as Cane discovered, left large traces of itself in the victim's bloodstream. Ultimately, that's what killed them. None survived his testing trials, and he eventually stopped them. However, there was one who took a large dosage of the antidote, accidently, and survived. The antidote, like many of the other potions and poisons Cane created, was disguised as a vat of chemicals within the factory. One night, a group of criminals broke into his factory, trying to break into the factory conjoined next door. A fight ensued, and one of the criminals accidently fell into the vat of antidote. Of course, I doubt that this was _entirely_ by accident. Cane most probably placed a Bad Luck Charm on any who entered the factory by force."

Dawn sighed. Rolling her eyes, she snapped, "I'm on the edge of my seat, Giles. Get to the point!"

Giles cleared his throat. "Right, yes. Well, the criminal survived and was flushed out into the city's river, along with the antidote. The antidote was lost forever, since this incident was shortly followed by Cane's death—he never shared the _exact_ recipe with anyone… but the criminal is largely well known. I know you've heard of him, Dawn. Anybody who's heard any of the news coming out of Gotham has heard… of the Joker."

The Joker. The bane of Batman, Gotham, and all people sane. Of course Dawn had heard of him. She had heard a lot about him… in fact, one of the people she had met in college was doing a report on him for one of their classes. He was trouble with a capital "T." And suddenly, she understood why Buffy didn't want anyone going after him. After all, if any human posed a truly real threat on the world, _without_ mystical powers, then it was the Joker.

Dawn launched herself out of her chair. "How is that possible? How is he supposed to help cure my sister?"

"Don't misunderstand me. He isn't supposed to _help_ cure Buffy. He, physically, _is_ the cure. Or his blood is, rather. He's the only person who has survived the antidote… and at such a high dosage. If Buffy were to be injected with his blood, it would not just kill, but annihilate the poison that is coursing through hers."

"Okay," Dawn said after a couple of deep breaths. "Fine. So… what happens now? I mean, how much blood do we need? Does he have to die so that Buffy can live?"

She really hoped not. As horrible as the Joker was, he was still human. And if Buffy had taught Dawn anything, it was that humans had their own laws… and that their lives were not to be taken by anything or anyone associated with the Slayer. But if that was what she had to do to save Buffy…

"No, I don't believe so. A vial, possibly two, should be more than adequate to save Buffy. But it won't be easy. Joker is one of the most highly watched criminals in history. If you are serious about going after him… you'll need some help."

"I can't take anybody with me. They'll rat me out," Dawn said.

"You're absolutely right. However, I have many friends who can pull many strings. I can get you fake ids, a fake passport, not to mention all the magical resources you might need to hide yourself from being found out by Willow."

"Or one of the SWs," Dawn replied.

SW was a term Dawn had been desperately trying to get started that referenced those who were both Slayer and Wiccan. By the look on Giles's face, that term wasn't going to be used again anytime soon. She sighed.

"Okay," she said. "So what do I do?"

Giles reached over to his desk, picking up a cell phone from one its shelves. Flipping the small, thin, black phone open, he gave a curt nod to Dawn.

"Give me two days. Then, we'll send you to Gotham."

* * *

End Notes: Okay, so I'm sorry for all the talk in the chapter. But, a lot of information had to be covered here for the basic plot to make sense. I hope everyone enjoyed this. Please review!

Fun Fact: Chapter 1's title came from the song of the same name by Alice Cooper, or the cover by Groove Coverage. Whichever you prefer.


	3. Almost Paradise

A/N- Thanks so very much, once again, for your reviews! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!

* * *

Chapter 3- Almost Paradise

The two days had passed slowly. More so than anything else Dawn had ever remembered in her life. More slowly than waiting for Christmas Day from the perspective of Christmas Eve. More so than a horrible movie that you're being forced to watch for a grade. More slowly than anticipating… well, anything, really. And the two days were not particularly easy to pass, either. Her anger at her sister and the rest of the Scoobies had subsided somewhat—which tends to happen when you make plans to take matters into your own hands. However, to avoid suspicion, she had to keep up the ruse of being pissed at them. So, "civil" took the place of "friendly" whenever she encountered one of the original Scoobies. She felt horrible, especially since she had no idea how long it would take her to get a vial of the Joker's blood, which meant that she had no idea how long she would be gone. But Xander, Willow, and the rest of the surviving Scoobies seemed used to her "righteous" anger, and took it all in stride.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the two days had ended, and Giles came to her. He had shoved a thick, almost over-full yellow business envelope into her hands. Glancing over his shoulder, he had bent his head down to hers and whispered to ensure that no one could hear them… which was silly since they were safely tucked away in Dawn's room.

"It's all there," he had said. "Passport, driver's license, even a social security card. A plane ticket is tucked in there as well. You leave tomorrow evening. My friend also gave me the proper spells to perform that will keep Willow and the Slayer Wiccans off your scent. Not permanently, mind you… but for a good long while."

So, after Giles had performed the "let's hide Dawn" mojo, she had packed her bags with only a few basic essentials and some personal items—to make her new "self" look like she had existed more than just days. Giles had also assured her that she would have everything she would need to actually live in Gotham for as long as she needed. Just after the spells were completed, Giles offered one last bit of information before exiting Dawn's room.

"Currently, the Joker is locked up in Arkham Asylum. You have an interview with a Dr. Joan Leland for an orderly position that takes place exactly four hours after your plane touches down in Gotham."

Dawn had dug out her plane ticket then to look at the estimated arrival times. Her eyebrow arched.

"Isn't this at night?" she asked.

Giles shrugged. "Dr. Leland assured me that she would there. Of course… there _might_ have been some magical persuasion involved."

At this, the former Watcher had winked at her. Dawn laughed and shook her head. With tidings of "good luck," Giles had left the room. And the following night, Dawn had successfully left for Gotham.

…………………

She had arrived in the darkened—and frankly, dismal—city precisely four hours earlier. She caught the nearest taxi and made one stop before going to her interview at Arkham—a clothing shop. Giles had also provided her with some starter cash, which Dawn thought might best be put to use ensuring that she looked presentable enough to hire. After buying a pair of gray women's slacks and a sky-blue button up shirt, she used the store's restroom to switch from her rumpled flight clothes and made her way to the asylum.

Once she had arrived, she asked for the taxi to wait for her while she interviewed. The driver had grunted, shrugged, and said, "Your dime."

Dawn had been admitted to see Leland almost immediately. Shaking hands with her, Dawn took a seat in the very comfortable chair across from the woman's desk. Dr. Leland seemed like a pleasant enough psychiatrist, both in personality and in looks. Her ear-length hair was being restrained by a simple hair band, and her dark skin was almost blemish-free. Dawn envied her for a moment.

Leland raised an eyebrow. "You're younger than I expected from your phone call."

Dawn had to stop herself from asking, "What phone call?" Of course, Giles had probably made it seem as if she herself had inquired about the job, instead of some relatively strange man doing it for her. Poor bewitched psychiatrist. Dawn smiled and shrugged.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked.

"You can't be over eighteen years old," Leland guessed.

Dawn huffed. "Nineteen, actually," she said, trying to keep her voice pleasant.

"And you're… _willingly_ applying to work here?"

Define "willingly," Dawn thought.

"Yes," she answered.

"Excuse my frankness, but… why? I mean, a young woman your age should be working in a fast food place, a restaurant, a café, a clothing store… anywhere but an asylum… especially Arkham."

Giles couldn't have just bewitched Leland a little further into just giving Dawn the job? No, of course not. That would have been too easy. Dawn's smile was becoming a little strained.

"Honestly? I'm new to town. I'm taking a break from college to work up the funds to go back. And the asylum pays more than all those other places you just mentioned. Dr. Leland, I believe I can do this job, and do it well."

Leland eyed her for a moment. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her hands on her desk. "Very well. This job is dangerous and hard. You know that, right?"

"Yes. I have some experience with both, to be honest. I helped a dear friend of mine care for her girlfriend after she had had a… um, mental breakdown," Dawn said.

She hated fudging the truth of Tara's story to meet her needs. But she knew that the deceased witch, wherever she may be, would understand. After all, it was all to save Buffy's life.

Leland seemed to be trying to read Dawn, to see if she had been telling the truth. After a few moments, she nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"Normally, I wouldn't hire one as young as you are or as quickly as I am, but… I'm desperately short on orderlies. Let me get some forms here for you to sign and you can start Monday," she said, pulling some papers out of a right-hand drawer in her desk.

Dawn's face lit up. "Really? Thank you!"

Leland made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh as she pushed the papers towards Dawn. "Don't thank me yet. Please sign where the Xs are and fill in your tax information, Miss Winters."

Dawn fought the slight cringe she felt at that name. It wasn't that she was unfamiliar with her new alias, Dawn Winters. Dawn Marie Winters, to be precise. She had read over all her information on the plane over. It was just that, as far as fake last names went, that one was pretty lame, considering her _actual_ last name. Apparently, Giles's brain had simply shut down when it had come to choosing a name for her. However, she forced her smile back into place as she filled out all the appropriate numbers and signed in all the right places. Sliding the finished paperwork back at Leland, both of them stood.

Shaking hands, Leland grinned. "Welcome aboard, Miss Winters. You don't know how badly we need orderlies. Nobody wants this job. I'm sure you can understand…"

Dawn nodded, the sounds of various inmates causing various troubles reaching her ears. Inwardly, she groaned. Arkham Asylum held all of the most dangerous criminals known to Gotham city, and she had just waltzed in and applied to work with a bright and chipper smile in place. But she _would_ save Buffy, no matter what.

"You'll be on the early evening shift. Be here at five p.m. Monday," Leland said, gesturing politely for Dawn to exit.

Dawn thanked the doctor again as she exited the asylum quickly—trying desperately to make it look like she wasn't _trying_ to exit quickly. Her mind was whirling and swirling with worry as she descended the stone steps of the gaunt building and got back into the backseat of her still-waiting cab.

Monday was still days away. Not many… only like, two. But two days was a lot when your sister's impending death and the inevitable up-close-and-personal meeting with the madman that was the only chance to save her life were the only two things on your mind. But she knew she had time. The last time she had spoken to Buffy, hours before her departure, her sister hadn't even been feeling the effects of it yet. And Giles had said that the poison was slow, meant for revenge.

It took the cab driver three tries to get Dawn to focus enough to give him a destination. With a sheepish apology, she opened her mouth to give the address to her new apartment (which had also been included in her packet of information)—one that she had memorized, which made her feel both proud of herself and very 007—when she paused. She did have to _live_ in this city, and she doubted that whoever had set up her apartment—since the information had said that it _was_ set up—had stocked it with food. She withdrew her wallet from her purse and did a quick count—just by eyeing it—of her funds. She still had plenty.

"Um, do you know where there are any good grocery stores? And maybe a department store?" she asked.

She saw her auburn-haired driver raise a bushy brow at her through the rear-view mirror.

"There's a Super Wal-Mart out on the highway. Would that work, Miss?" he asked, as if her question had been the stupidest in the world.

And, when she thought about it, it hadn't exactly been smart. After all, Wal-Mart was everywhere now. Swallowing her pride, and trying to control the warm blush she felt spreading across her cheeks, she nodded.

…………………

It was quite a feat to load all her grocery bags, her luggage, and herself into the elevator of her new apartment building, but she managed. Luckily, there was a rather kind elderly couple who lived on the same floor as hers—the floor just below the topmost floor—who held the elevator door open for her as she carried her numerous bags up the hallway to her apartment's door—Apartment 1920.

Her taxi fee had been huge, as she had even had the man wait for as she shopped inside Wal-Mart. He had been more than happy to do so, as it was, after all, her dime. She had bought enough groceries to get through two weeks (which equals a hell of a lot of bags… it had been a _very_ kind elderly couple holding the elevator for her), plus four sets of medical scrubs to work in. Thankfully, she had packed a comfortable pair of walking sneakers in her luggage, so shoes had not been a problem.

Now, she stood outside of Apartment 1920, digging inside her purse for her key while juggling as many bags as she could, the elderly couple long gone. Down the hall, she heard the elevator _ding_, but didn't bother to look up.

"Where the hell is that thing? You would think we keys would help each other out!" she muttered, resorting to putting the plastic handle of one of her bags into her mouth to give her a little more movement.

A couple more minutes of digging, and Dawn's jaw just couldn't take it anymore. Giving way against her will, the bag dropped from her mouth, threatening to spill its contents all over the hallway. She let out a little squeal of surprise as two arms appeared in her eyesight to scoop up the bag before it crashed to the floor. Following the rather toned arms up to their owner, she blinked. Her Grocery Savior was a rather attractive man—dressed all in black, with his equally raven black hair, which extended halfway down his back, tied into a low ponytail—who now stood, smiling jovially at her.

"You must be new to the city," he said as Dawn blushed.

"That obvious?" she asked, finally finding her key.

She fought against rolling her eyes. Of course she would find it right _after_ disaster. Things were not boding well. However, the guy was still standing there, holding her fruits and veggies, and he was really good looking. Really. Unbelievably.

But, then again, he hadn't introduced himself yet. And he seemed to be laughing at her.

"Yeah, pretty obvious. Nobody does heavy shopping like this without having someone to help them… and well, it looks like you expect your cupboard to be empty. Not to mention the luggage."

Dawn arched a brow. "Very nice work, Mr. Holmes, but now onto this business about the snake…"

She wanted to slap herself. Here was another extremely hot guy, who may or may not be a vampire—as yet to be determined—and she was making a literary reference. An extremely dorky one at that. It really _was_ like a disease. Thankfully, he laughed… and not a pity one.

"_The Adventure of the Speckled Band_. That one was my favorite Holmes short stories," he said. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he offered his hand. "I'm Dick Grayson. I own the loft apartment on the floor above."

She took his hand and shook it, happy to find it nice and warm. Nope, not a vampire. Unless he had just fed… She really hoped he wasn't of the undead persuasion.

"Cool," she stated, really wishing she had said something else. She felt so childish every time "cool" was her only response to something. So, hurriedly, she added, "Which one?"

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Um, which loft do you own? Upstairs?"

He stared at her for a minute, as if she had suddenly started speaking a really weird foreign language. Finally, he laughed, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry… I didn't realize. Um, it's the _only_ loft upstairs. It was added only in the last couple of years. Elevator doesn't even go to it… that's why I have to stop here, and take the stairs over there."

He tossed his chin in some general direction behind Dawn, who nodded. Then, looking down, he glanced around at her numerous shopping bags. When he looked back at her, he had a brow arched.

"Do you need a hand getting all this stuff in?"

"Huh?" Dawn asked, before quickly shaking herself. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

She shoved her little silver key into the door's lock, twisted it once, and let herself inside. And paused.

The apartment was nice. But, to be honest, nice didn't really cover it. It was a _fantastic_ apartment that must be costing Giles or whoever was helping her pay for it a fortune. The door opened up right into the living room, which was carpeted in a pleasant crème-color with an off-white paint on its walls. The couch and chairs that occupied the room looked like white leather and were facing a mid-size flat screen TV. The living room and the kitchen were separated by a breakfast bar that possessed a black, granite counter and was painted—below the counter—the same color as the living room walls. The kitchen was done in black in white, with all its appliances being silver. She could see two doors that opened up into the bathroom and bedroom that stood a few feet off from the kitchen and living room.

"Nice place," Dick said, stepping inside behind Dawn.

Definitely not a vampire. Good news. He leaned around her to stare at the rather surprised look on her face.

"Have you never… been here?" he asked.

Dawn blinked. "No. I haven't. My, um, uncle set me up. Otherwise, I would never be able to afford this. He's helping me out because he understands my… situation."

Great, she thought as the gestured towards the breakfast bar. Now she sounded like she was pregnant. Sighing, she and Dick deposited the bags upon the bar. With two sets of hands, it took a matter of moments to move all of Dawn's things inside. Neither of the two closed the apartment's door, both very aware that they were still strangers to one another. Best not to feel trapped and helpless. Especially in a city with a reputation like Gotham's. Dick moved slowly over to Dawn's groceries as she moved to unzip one of her suitcases—the one with personal effects in it. The apartment was too white. It felt cold and impersonal. She needed to add her own touches to it, and fast.

"I'll help you put up the groceries, if you'd like, Miss… uh, I haven't gotten your name yet," he said.

Dawn blinked. Smiling over at him, a faint blush creeping over her face for the second time that night, she said, "It's Dawn. Dawn Winters. Just call me Dawn… and you don't have to do that. You've been plenty helpful already."

"Ah, don't mention it," he said, already beginning on the frozen foods. "I know how hard it is to get started on your own. Not to mention, your 'situation' sounds pretty serious. Not that I mean to pry."

He said that last sentence quickly, and Dawn smiled down at her open suitcase. Moving around now, depositing picture frames onto shelves and such, she shrugged. She had to give him a story, and one that would be believable. She didn't want anyone to think that she had something to hide.

"I was in college, but I decided to take a break. I mean, I don't want to leave with gigantic student loans or anything, so I thought I'd take some time off to save up. My uncle's rather well off and understood, so he decided to give me a leg up. Which, as it turns out, was a pretty nice leg," she said, pausing to take in her apartment once again.

Dick laughed as he finished putting away the last few grocery items. Dawn was also reaching the end of the personal items she had packed. Finally, reaching in, she withdrew the last item. The thick, yellow belt she had earned just months ago.

"You do martial arts?" Dick asked, coming to stand in front of the breakfast bar.

Dawn smiled proudly. "Yeah. I haven't been to a class in a few weeks, seeing as the place I was learning at was a couple of blocks away from my college… in California."

"Ah, California girl. That explains the weird accent," he smiled.

Dawn bit her lip, trying her best not to let her "wide, goofy" grin loose. "I don't have a 'weird' accent."

Dick shrugged. "Well, sounds weird to me. What did you practice, in your dojo?"

"Judo… my sister wanted me to learn self-defense if I was going to live so far away from her. And I really wanted to learn, to be honest."

…Which was completely true. Buffy had all but forced her into that dojo when she had dropped her little sister off in San Francisco. And Dawn had not needed much forcing.

"Well, that's a nice coincidence, I run a dojo upstairs… that's why I need the large loft. Judo's one of the things I teach," Dick said.

"Really? I'd love to start practicing again," Dawn said.

And she would. Maybe she could "Judo chop" the Joker into submission if she got good enough, fast enough. She had to fight giggling at that thought. After all, she didn't want to scare the new, cute, upstairs neighbor-guy.

"I could teach you. Free of charge," he offered.

Dawn's eyes widened. "I-I couldn't ask you to do that!"

Dick scoffed. "Don't worry about it. Think of it as a 'welcome to Gotham' gift. After all, everyone needs to know how to protect themselves in Gotham. What do you say?"

"… Sure! Thanks."

"Not a problem," Dick said, right as his cell phone started to ring. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a slim, black phone, hit a button, and pressed it to his ear. After several "yeahs" and "uh-huhs," he flipped it closed again.

"I'm sorry, Dawn, but I've got to go. How about you call me to let me know when you're free to train?" he said, quickly scrawling his number on the back of Dawn's grocery receipt—which she assumed he had found within one of the bags.

"Sure," she said, accepting it as he disappeared out the door, closing it behind him.

Furrowing her brow, Dawn turned to the rest of her luggage to begin putting away her clothes. He had left in an awful hurry. She found herself hoping that it wasn't anything too important. Staring at the number as she piled clothes over her arm, she grinned.

"If my luck holds, maybe Joker will just _give_ me his blood," she laughed, disappearing into her room.

Moments later, Dawn felt like the world's biggest tourist as she gawked through her living room window at the bright Bat Signal, shining across the Gotham skyline.

* * *

End Notes: A little bit of filler, as well as some character positioning. However, I hope that chapter was entertaining. Now, I'm trying to keep the updates coming on this one being that it's so fresh in my mind. However, my friend and I are both willing participating in personal challenges that will help us in our goal to update all of our fanfics, eventually. Which means that it might be a little while before you get the next chapter. But, rest assured, I'll be back. Please review!

Fun Fact: Last chapter's title was inspired by "Renegade" by Styx… as some have already guessed ;)

Fun Fact 2: _The Adventure of the Speckled Band_ happens to be my favorite Sherlock Holmes short story, so I'm glad I got to reference it.


	4. Smile

A/N- Okay, sorry about the wait. Originally, I intended to take some time off from this one to update a couple of my other stories. However, I want to keep going with this while it's still fresh in my mind. So, without further ado, the next chapter!

* * *

Chapter 4- Smile

Monday had come faster than Dawn had expected it would. After all, she had been anticipating it. But, in truth, she had been dreading it as well. The Joker wasn't the only inmate in Arkham—of course, arguably, he was the most dangerous. There had been several moments over the past weekend where Dawn had wondered if she was in over her head. But then she would remember why she was in Gotham and why she had taken this job. Buffy had never failed to save her life, and, now, it was Dawn's turn to save her sister.

So, dressed in mauve scrubs with white sneakers, Dawn crawled out of the backseat of the taxi, paying the driver as she went. She watched as the stereotypical yellow and black vehicle pulled away from the gates of the asylum, leaving only Dawn behind. Turning with a heavy sigh, she stepped up to the guard post and gave her name. The guard had nodded, telling Dawn that Dr. Leland had informed him of the new orderly, and gave her a laminate security badge.

"Wear this at all times while on duty, Miss Winters," he said as Dawn clipped it to the neck of her scrubs.

"Will do," she said as the guard turned and hit the switch to raise the caution bar in front of her.

"I'm Walter, by the way. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," he called after her.

Dawn waved her hand to show him that she had heard him and mounted the stairs to the asylum's main entrance. Once inside, it took her moments to locate Dr. Leland, as she was standing in front of her office. The doctor turned and smiled at Dawn as she lowered her arm, a gold watchband glimmering in the building's dim light.

"Ten minutes early. I like that. Now, I've got to run, but I was waiting on you to get you all set up," Leland said.

Dawn nodded as she turned from her and waved over another orderly, this one dressed in well-worn white scrubs.

"This is Alisha, and she's the Senior Orderly around here," Leland said as the other orderly arrived.

Alisha's super-curly, bottle-blonde hair was bound atop her head in messy piles. Her nails were short, but still painted a bright red that easily stood out the most of anything else… but at least they matched her equally-as-red lips. Her skin was olive-toned, tanned, and youthful in such as way that the word "Botox" immediately came to Dawn's mind. Her bright green eyes crinkled almost painfully at their corners as she smiled at her.

"Alisha will show you the ropes around here. Now, I'm leaving for the evening. Listen to everything this woman tells you, and you'll be just fine. Have a nice evening, you two," Leland said, turning to close and lock her office door.

Both Dawn and Alisha waved as Leland departed. When the doctor was out of sight, the head orderly turned and crossed her arms.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name," she said, her smile beginning to stretch her face unnaturally.

"Dawn Winters. But, just Dawn. Uh, nice to meet you, Miss Alisha," Dawn said, putting out a hand.

"Oh, please, just Alisha," she said as she took Dawn's hand and shook it once. "My, my… you're so young!"

"So I'm told," Dawn shrugged.

Alisha laughed a high pitched screech of a laugh that echoed unpleasantly off the asylum's stone walls. Dawn had to fight covering her ears at the noise. Sighing, the head orderly placed a protective arm around her, leading her off up the hallway.

"Now, I'm supposed to show you your duties. They're simple enough, if all the rules are followed. Basically, since all the patients here at Arkham are also inmates, we're just here to assist the police."

As if to illustrate her point, she gestured to a fully-armed and outfitted Gotham Police Officer as the two passed the young man up. The cop tipped his hat to Dawn, who gave him a small, almost weak, smile in return. Alisha gave Dawn a tiny little hug, bringing her attention back to her trainer.

"What we do is feed the inmates, do their laundry, pick up after them—especially in the Rec Room, and so on. Just basic housekeeping type jobs. Am I going too fast?"

The two woman rounded a corner and stopped as a line of police officers, two-by-two with each pair having a single person in between them, came filing out of a room. Dawn looked up to see Alisha—who stood a couple of inches taller than she did—nit her brow worriedly. Glancing down at her watch, she sighed.

"That's early," she murmured before adding, aloud, "they must have tried to start something. See that room they're leaving from? That's the Rec Room. And it looks almost empty. Tell you what, I'm going to drop you off with another one of my orderlies in there and let you help her clean up while I help these officers move the inmates. This'll be part of your duties soon too—too soon, if you ask me, but, what with the lack of orderlies… Anyway, we'll pick up your training a little later tonight. Just stick with an orderly if you can't find me. Now, off you go!"

Dawn had decided, as she watched Alisha depart with the inmates and cops, that the head orderly was just too cheerful to be working in a place like this. She wondered, briefly, if that—like the woman's youthful appearance—was drug induced as well. As soon as the morbid parade of cops, inmates, and Alisha had cleared the doorway to the Rec Room, Dawn slipped inside.

Chairs, tables, the sofa, and game pieces were overturned and scattered everywhere. Only a single orderly, another woman who looked only two or three years older than Dawn herself, occupied the room, sighing as she went about cleaning it. The woman's brown hair was cut in a short bob and she wore navy blue scrubs with shoes almost exactly like Dawn's. Her thin lips were pressed tightly shut and her chocolate eyes were downcast. Taking another tentative step into the room, Dawn cleared her throat to announce her presence.

"Oh!" the woman said, looking up and jumping.

Dawn grinned apologetically as the woman placed a hand against her heart.

"I'm sorry. I'm Dawn… the new orderly. Alisha dropped me off in here and told me to help you clean."

"Oh, well, that's all right, then, isn't it? I'm Megan, and I'm usually stuck cleaning this stupid room by myself… and not a one of those criminals can be in here together for more than five minutes without getting into a fight with another one. Here," she said, crossing the room and pulling a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. "Ivy was in here. You don't want to touch anything with your bare hands. Learned that the hard way."

"Thanks," Dawn said, putting on the gloves quickly. She knew what horrible things that something mystical could do to you if you touched them without preparing. And she had heard all about Poison Ivy's plants and toxins. She didn't want to know what nasty things _those_ could do to you if you touched one without gloves or any other type of protection.

Dawn immediately started setting the furniture right-side up as Megan continued to gather scattered game pieces, talking all the while.

"So, you're new here, huh? I've only been here a year myself. Oh, but the things you'll see in this place! I'm telling you… if you've got a weak stomach, get out now."

Dawn didn't say anything at first. Instead, she kept an eye on Megan, waiting to see what would happen if silence fell. The woman looked as if she was just _bursting_ to share some of those "things" she had seen. Dawn fought down a grin. Megan was a gossip. Just what she needed to get the inside scoop on all things Joker.

"So… what kind of things are you talking about?" Dawn said, trying to make herself sound innocently curious. Which, wasn't she? Well, "innocent" might be pushing it a bit far.

But Megan just seemed happy enough to share. She started with Poison Ivy and the time she had broken out using a giant beanstalk. Following that, she spoke about an inmate known as The Ventriloquist whose wooden gangster dummy did all the thinking. Next, she talked about the time Riddler was asking riddles of anyone who brought him his food. Finally, she mentioned a name that caught Dawn's attention.

"… And, of course, you've heard about Harley Quinn, right? And what the Joker did to that woman?"

Dawn turned from her place over a trunk that she was putting away all the board games into. She _had_ heard of Harley Quinn before… who hadn't? But she had always thought that the story she had heard had to be mostly made up. After all, the version Dawn had heard had sounded so much like a soap opera storyline it was ridiculous. So, in interest of hearing what could possibly be the "true" story of the Joker and his infamous sidekick/henchwoman/girlfriend, she shook her head.

"I've heard _of _her," Dawn said, almost instantly in reply to the shocked look on Megan's face. "I just don't know that much about her."

"Oh, child, then let me tell you!" Megan said, leaving behind the little bit of cleaning she was doing to move, conspiratorially, towards Dawn. Lowering her voice, she added, "Not that this is that big of a secret… I mean, _everyone_ in Gotham knows, but I don't think the doctors here like it mentioned much. You see, Quinn used to be a psychiatrist here."

Dawn had heard that. But, she feigned surprised and nodded for her fellow orderly to continue.

"She was looking, basically, for a get-rich-quick route. You know, write a tell-all book? So, who better than Gotham's own insane public enemy number one, the Joker? But… he knew how to get to her. That's how tricky he is, you know. She's not the first doctor he's gotten to in some way or another. But she is the first that has ever falling in _love_ with him."

Now Dawn was surprised. Everything that Megan had told her was _exactly_ what she had heard. She had always been skeptical of the story for more reasons than just the whole soap opera thing. In truth, she had just had trouble believing that any human… an honest to God _human_ could have that big of an effect on a fellow human being in such a short time—since the story Dawn had heard had taken place over a period of only six or so months. Months! Only months to break a woman's mind in half and rob her of her sanity and, frankly, her self-respect. Six months just couldn't be right. _That_ had to be the part that was fabricated.

"How long did it take him to, you know, trick her or whatever?" Dawn whispered, unable to help herself from glancing over her shoulder towards the door.

Megan shrugged. "Poor Miss Quinn… six months. Alisha here remembers it all. She's worked here for years, you know."

Dawn felt her body begin to shake. Was the Joker really that dangerous? Everyone and everything she encountered kept telling her so, but she had dealt with demons spit from the very mouth of Hell. Surely he couldn't be as bad as that… could he?

"You okay, chickie? I haven't scared you off, have I?" Megan asked, suddenly, her voice thick with concern.

Dawn blinked herself back into reality. Dangerous or not… a Summers girl did what a Summers girl had to do. Forcing a smile onto her face, she shook her head.

"Nah… just thinking. I mean, it's horrible, isn't it? I'm amazed Hollywood hasn't snatched this story up," she said, turning away to finish putting away the trunk of games.

Megan laughed. "You're telling me."

It took a little while after that for the two of them to finish cleaning the room… just enough time for Dawn to look up and see Alisha walking by. She turned, saying a quick good-bye to Megan, and caught up with the head orderly.

"Alisha, hey!" she said as the woman turned.

"Dawn, I was just looking for you. Sorry I was gone so long. Once I got done with the inmates, I was snatched up for several other somethings. Is the Rec Room clean?"

"Yeah, nothing left but the dusting that Megan was finishing up when I left."

Alisha nodded, glancing down at her watch. Shaking her head, she laughed.

"Where does the time go? You've only got about an hour left on shift tonight. I'm sorry I didn't get to show you more. We'll pick this up tomorrow, right? You're on schedule?"

Dawn blinked. "I'm not sure. I haven't picked it up yet… probably get that at the front desk, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. I'll make sure to grab it before I take off… which reminds me. Why don't I take a walk around the cells, make sure that everything is okay?"

She hadn't figured that her first night of work would leave her with much opportunity to get close to the Joker. After all, she knew that this whole "mission" was going to be a slow process. But she had to snatch every chance she could, and this was one of them. Alisha beamed at her.

"Well, it's been years since we've had such a dedicated worker. Most of these people just want to work and dash. Really, I can't blame them. Every moment here is a moment of putting yourself in harm's way, I won't lie. So, go ahead and check… but be careful. I can't stress that enough."

"I'm just a big ol' caution sign," Dawn said, turning away from her boss and taking off up the hall.

She walked slowly past officers who nodded politely at her, trying her best to look like she gave a damn about the rest of the inmates. Of course, she wouldn't lie to herself. As she passed by the cells of some of the more famous inmates—Poison Ivy, Two-Face, and the Riddler, just to name a few—she spared a peek inside, curiosity getting the best of her. However, as the hall became emptier and emptier, she came upon the one cell she had sought.

She stopped in front of the giant glass wall and stared inside, much in the same way one might stare into a deadly animal's cage at the zoo. She lifted her hand, about to rest it on the glass, when she stopped. Thinking better of it, she lowered it, clenching it into a fist at her side.

That pane of glass was the only thing separating her from the sleeping figure of the Joker. Her sister's salvation. She watched as his chest rose and fell rhythmically, listening as he snored lightly—a ghoulish grin stretching his face even in sleep. She licked her lips quickly as a million crazy thoughts flew through her mind. The hall was empty. She could just break him out, and… And what? Just politely ask him for a vial of his blood in hopes that he would part with it out of gratitude? No. There was only one way to do this, and that wasn't it. She took a single step back as he stirred in his sleep. Glancing around, she saw that the hall was still empty, but that one of the non-famous criminals was staring a little too closely at her. She eyed the man before sighing.

She had time. Not a world of it… but more than she could have ever hoped for, given the situation. She would get what she need… just not tonight. Shaking her head, she turned and took off back the way she had come.

If she walked slowly enough, it would be time to clock out by the time she reached the front of the asylum.

* * *

End Notes: It took me forever to write this chapter. That, and I'm also juggling submitting original short stories to publishers in hopes of starting some semblance of a professional writing career. So, updates will be sporadic as I will be trying to meet certain publishing deadlines… but they'll still be coming. So, what did everyone think of this chapter? Please review; I thrive on them!

Fun Fact: The previous chapter's title, "Almost Paradise," was based on the song of the same name by Ann Wilson and Mike Reno; it can be heard on the Footloose soundtrack.


	5. Telephone

A/N- Sorry for the long wait on this! As I previously stated, I've been working on trying to get some stuff published. On a positive note, I've gotten a poem published, so yay me! I've got some more publishing-type deadlines to meet, but the first one isn't until the 15th of this month. Now, I know we got a glimpse of the Joker sleeping in that last chapter and you are all probably wondering when he'll begin to feature big in this story. Sorry, that's next chapter. But, without further ado, here's this one!

* * *

Chapter 5- Telephone

Dawn threw back her head and sighed, her eyes trained on the dark and dismal ceiling of Arkham Asylum. She had two more days until she could consider her training period officially "over." But until then, she had been bounced from one orderly to the next, always ending up back with Alisha. However, at the present moment, they had decided—due to a rather busy schedule and a rather short staff—to let Dawn finish feeding the inmates by herself. Well, almost by herself. After all, it was protocol that all orderlies be accompanied by a guard when coming into any sort of close contact with an inmate.

As per protocol, the little, metal sliding door in the glass of the inmate's cell was opened by the inmate his or herself. Standing off to the side, nightstick at the ready, was the guard. Dawn had been instructed to stand no closer than a little over a foot from the door, set the tray on the floor, and slide it through with her foot. This was done to help lessen any chances that the inmates might have to injure the orderlies. After the food was through, the guard ordered the inmate to close the door, they did, and all went about their lives. However, this was not currently the case.

"Can't you answer my riddle, dear?" Edward Nygma AKA the Riddler, sans green suit, drawled.

Dawn swallowed down her annoyance. "Mr. Nygma, please just open your door and let me slide you your food. Aren't you hungry?"

"Ah, but you're new. And you look like a smart one. Give it a shot," he grinned, reclining back on his simple, wall-mounted bed.

Sighing again, Dawn turned to the guard accompanying her. "I thought he was over this?"

The young man shrugged. Dawn shook her head.

"Fine," she said as calmly as she could muster. "Could you repeat the riddle?"

Putting on his most arrogant airs, he cleared his throat and repeated, "You throw away the outside and cook the inside. Then you eat the outside and throw away the inside. What did you eat?"

Dawn nibbled at her bottom lip, thinking. She spared a moment's glance to her watch. She still had a few minutes until her shift was up this evening… but she was going to be getting overtime if she couldn't get Nygma to take his damn food! From behind the glass, Riddler smoothed back his red hair and chuckled.

"Oh come now, Miss Winters, I thought that you would have an _ear_ for this!"

Dawn blinked. Smiling, she crossed her arms and looked him dead in the eye.

"An ear of corn?" she ventured.

With a sharp, "Ha!" he slid off his bed and opened the door, quickly stepping back even as the guard ordered him to do so. Dawn put her toe out and pushed the tray beyond the glass. Riddler retrieved it and shut the door.

"Well played, Miss Winters, well played. But, you know, that riddle has another answer as well. Can you guess it? Just for fun?"

The guard, already on his way up the hall, paused and turned back, a brow raised. Dawn grinned. She remembered this riddle now. It was one that Joyce had shared at some random Summers dinner.

"Oh, I could. But I think I'll just _chicken_ out," she said.

This sent the man into peals of laughter, muttering every so often, "Excellent. Just excellent!"

"And, I'm outta here!" Dawn announced as she passed the guard, wishing him a good night.

She cleared her way with Alisha, who smiled and nodded, then proceeded to clock out. As she was descending the asylum's outside steps, reaching for her cell to call for a cab, she felt it vibrate. She didn't bother to check the ID, as only one person currently had her new number.

"Hey, Giles? How's Buffy? Nothing bad has happened, right?" she asked, pausing on the bottom step.

"She's fine. I'm actually calling just to check up on you. Nothing bad on your end, I hope? How was the apartment?" he asked, and Dawn could almost hear him remove his glasses and wipe his brow.

"The apartment was fantastic, Giles. I'm glad that Buffy's still doing okay. As for me, nothing bad has happened… but nothing good either. I'm almost at the end of my training period—even though my trainer says that you 'never really stop learning at Arkham,' and the closest I've been to the Joker was passing by his cell while he was asleep."

Giles breathed into the phone. "Well, time is on our side, thank God. Don't rush things. I'm sure you'll be in close enough contact to get what we need in no time. Just be careful, Dawn. I cannot stress this enough. Joker is dangerous… never forget it."

Dawn rolled her eyes. That seemed to be the theme of her whole week, "Joker is Dangerous." She huffed, moving to the left of the stairs and taking a seat.

"Giles, I mean, come on, haven't I heard that enough? That's all I've heard from the orderlies here too. I mean, I feel like I'm listening to a CD with a bad scratch. I've hung with vampires, slayers, and demons, Giles. Not to mention witches. Well, actually, I guess I did just mention them, but… whatever. I mean, no matter how dangerous this guy is to the common folk, he can't be that bad to one of us, can he?"

She had long ago hushed her voice, for fear of having someone overhearing her discussing the Joker like this. The last thing she needed was someone thinking she was another Harley Quinn case. Giles, on his end, sighed heavily. Dawn rolled her eyes again, knowing a lecture was coming. And, of course, she was right.

"Dawn, I don't deny that you do have a point. To one who's dealt with the things that go bump in the night, the Joker ought to be a piece of cake. But I've read a lot about him. As far as powers, he's got nothing but gimmicks. However, he's a criminal genius. And his most dangerous quality is his predictable unpredictability."

Dawn arched a brow. "Predictable unpredictability? Isn't that an oxymoron?"

Thank you, Freshman Comp I. Giles huffed out a tiny laugh.

"I suppose it is, but it doesn't make it any less true."

"Well, I don't get you, Giles. I mean, how is that his most dangerous quality?"

"Simply put: one knows the gimmicks he will use, and probably the method… but one might never know when he'll choose to strike. I once read an account where he kept tabs on a man for years, simply because he said the man owed him a favor. And I'm sure you have heard of, if not seen, Harley Quinn?"

"All right. I get your point. I'll be careful, trust me. But I've got to go. It's going to start looking pretty weird for me to just be hanging out here."

The two said their good-byes, and Dawn hung up, snapping her phone shut with a quick _click_. She sat on the step a moment or two longer, lost in thought, before she finally called for a cab.

…………………

A couple of days earlier, Dawn had visited upon her upstairs neighbor, Dick, to take him up on his offer of training. She had hoped that this hadn't been an empty promise, but he had happily greeted her and more than eagerly worked with her to work out a training schedule. Presently, after arriving home a little more than a half an hour later, she readied herself for their first scheduled session. She skipped the shower, seeing as it made more sense for her to take one after the sweaty karate session. She blushed a little when she thought of "sweaty" and Dick in the same thought, but quickly brushed it aside. Instead, she opted for a "whore's bath," just washing her visible skin after she had switched into her uniform and putting on a bit of body spray.

Buffy had always hated her using the term "whore's bath," but it just made Dawn giggle like a five-year-old. Finally pronouncing herself as ready, she made her way out of her apartment, up the hall and stairs, and to Dick's front door. With a couple of quick knocks, she was permitted entry.

She made her way into his dojo, smiling to herself. He called to her from an adjacent room, "I'll be in, in a sec, Dawn, okay? … This is Dawn that I just let in, right?"

Dawn laughed. "Yeah," she called back. Playfully, she added, "You know, it's not always such a hot idea to just invite people sight-unseen into your home. Trust me, learned that the hard way."

Stupid Harmony, she thought, staring at the simple décor on the walls. Moments later, Dick entered the room, and Dawn had to stop herself from gaping. He was shirtless! And she was trying hard not to stare. But it was oh, so difficult. He was rather muscular, but hadn't she already noticed this? His hair was pulled back once again, and he wore a small smile. He wore the bottom half of a Judogi that, judging by the bottom, was quite similar to Dawn's. Around his waist was a thick, black belt… but Dawn had to force her eyes upwards again.

She was in Gotham for a reason. She had a mission. Ogling a guy was not part of it. Her sister was dying. Of course… what harm could be done by just looking? Surely Buffy wouldn't blame her for looking… Hell, she might praise her for this one.

And she must've been staring pretty intently, because Dick's smile soon turned rather goofy, and Dawn's face began to grow very warm. Shrugging, he cleared his throat rather awkwardly.

"Sorry. I, um, hope this won't make you uncomfortable. I didn't have time to wash the top half of my gi, and I had a condiment-related incident with it earlier. My sensei was always admonishing me for eating in my uniform. The lesson never took, no matter how many exercises he made me do. What can I say? I love to eat."

Dawn thought she was going to die. It was a moment of tripping over her words before she was finally able to force out a laugh without it sounding squeaky. Dick laughed as well, and she was pretty sure it was at her, and not with her. He stepped forward—barefooted, of course—onto the large blue mat in the center of the room. He gestured for Dawn to join him, and she did so in an odd, jerky movement that was somewhere between "eager" and "hesitant." Hence, the jerkiness.

"Now," Dick said, his voice all seriousness, "you said that it had been a little while since your last practice. Would you just like a refresher? Work with different moves as stuff comes back to you?"

"Yeah, that's sounds perfect… uh, do I call you sensei?"

Dick looked like he was fighting the smile forming on his lips when he replied, "Nah. Let's just stick with Dick."

The evening progressed in just such a way. They went over various throws and holds, with Dawn quickly gaining her focus away from Dick's nude upper-half as move after move came back to her.

"So," Dick said, while holding her in a way that illustrated a shoulder throw, "how is everything?"

Dawn laughed. "Not bad. I was in San Francisco, so I know how to move in a big city… but Gotham's really like no other, you know?"

"Tell me about it," Dick said.

He finished the move by showing her how to get out of it, which she did, successfully. Laying on the mat, staring up at her, he smiled.

"Why don't we take a little break? Catch our breath?" he asked.

Dawn laughed. "Sure. What? Did I tire you out?"

He laughed hard at that, and she pouted. He stood, offered her a water—which she accepted, gratefully, and the two took a seat off to one side of the mat.

"So, neighbor, tell me something about yourself. Something you haven't told me yet," Dick said, swallowing a rather large mouthful of water.

Dawn sipped at hers thoughtfully. She had to be careful what she said here. She was sure that Dick wasn't really fishing for information; he was probably just being nice. But Giles—and apparently the entire staff of Arkham—kept warning her to be cautious, careful. So careful she was going to be.

"Well… I was in the Honors program both in high school and college," she said.

"Ah, thought you were a smart one."

Dawn's brow furrowed for a moment, thinking back to the Riddler saying almost exactly the same thing earlier. She quickly wiped the look from her face, before any questions could be asked. Smiling, she playfully nudged her trainer/neighbor.

"Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don't know about you."

"Alright. My favorite food is carrots. Don't ask me why… I just love them."

"So random!" Dawn laughed. "Okay, my turn? When I was twelve years old, I wasn't supposed to watch horror films. So, I snuck over to a friend's house one night, and had a total horrorfest. The bloodiest, goriest movies you could possibly think of… I slept with the light on for a month after that."

"Nice. Let's see… Well, I better tell you this before you find out through gossip. My parents died young, and I am… well, was a ward of Bruce Wayne."

Dawn's eyes widened. She hadn't expected family information to come out so soon. Her smile was wiped away, and she reached a tentative hand out towards him.

"I'm sorry… well, about your parents. But at least you avoided foster care… and with Bruce Wayne to boot!"

Dick's smile looked a little strained when he replied, "Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago, and justice was served. Thought I ought to mention it before our picture ends up in the _Gotham Gazette_."

Dawn's face blanched a little. A newspaper? She couldn't appear in a newspaper! Of course, it wasn't like the _Gotham Gazette_ was one Buffy read often. Dick arched a brow at her.

"Are you okay? Dawn?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I have… sort of stage fright. Was just thinking too hard on being in the paper," she replied… again, not a total lie.

Dick laughed. "I'm sorry. I'd tell you to disguise yourself, but that would only draw more attention. And I don't want you to feel like you have to hide. A lot of people in Gotham feel that way… it's not right, nor is it fair."

"No problem. I'll deal."

"So… tell me about your family."

For half a moment, Dawn almost concocted an elaborate lie. Well, not so elaborate. Just a lie. However, she stopped just moments before it spilled forth.

"My dad and I don't really talk anymore. He and my mom divorced when I was little. My sister was only like sixteen or something. My mom died of a brain aneurysm a couple of years before I started high school. She'd been sick for a little while. My sister raised me after that, with some great help from her friends. We're all like one big family."

"I'm sorry to hear about that. What's your sister's name?" Dick asked.

"Buffy," Dawn said, her voice going a little quiet. "We don't always get along… but she's kind of my world. I… I don't know what I'd do without her."

"It was nice of her to continue to raise you. I don't mean to sound crude, but for a lot of people your sister's age—I'm assuming—it might have been easier just to pawn you off on someone else."

Dawn gave a short laugh. "Yeah, well… Buffy's always been the responsible sort."

There was silence after that, with nothing but Dawn and Dick staring at one another. It seemed that neither knew what to say next, and that they hadn't really expected their conversation to get quite so serious. However, the familiar tune of Dick's phone sounded, and he all but leapt to his feet to answer it.

Glancing at the caller ID, he turned to her and said, "Excuse me. I have to take this."

Like the phone call before, it was over after a couple of "uh-huhs" and "yeahs." Clicking it shut, he turned, an apologetic grin on his face.

"Sorry about this, but I gotta run. I really did mean to get back to practice tonight."

Dawn pulled herself to her feet, shaking her head. "No problem. It's fine."

"Say, I know this isn't what we scheduled… but would you be free tomorrow night to pick up where we left off with the Judo?"

Dawn couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah. Definitely."

"Good. Well… it was good to have you over, Dawn. See you same time tomorrow."

"Right after work."

Dawn let herself out after that. She all but bounced down the staircase, a silly grin plastered on her face. Unlocking her apartment's door, she entered and raised a brow. Lighting up the sky through her window once again was the famous "Bat Signal." She shook her head.

"I guess Batman doesn't ever get a night off," she muttered, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

End Notes: Okay, fun little scene at the beginning there, and some character development at the bottom. I hope everyone enjoyed this. And I promise, Joker makes a big appearance in the next chapter. I swear it. Now, I have a couple of other fics I've got to update… then I'll make my way back to this one, quick like a bunny. Please review; I do so love them!!

Fun Fact: The riddle was found off of a website, and had two possible answers… so I included both. Also, the title of last chapter was inspired by "Smile" by Lily Allen. I just get the feeling that this would be a song that the Joker would just love.


	6. Bleed It Out

A/N- Okay, so this was supposed to be my "quick update" for this story. But, June was a month of both involuntary and voluntary Hell. I submitted fresh material to no less than ten publishers—still waiting to hear back from some—and held my usual summer job at Upward Bound. We had a sort of rough year this year, but we all pulled through. Thanks to all my patient reviewers! Please keep them coming!

* * *

Chapter 6- Bleed It Out

"Get the double treat, that's so double sweet…" Dawn sang under her breath. Stopping halfway up a deserted hall in Arkham, she sighed, adding to herself, "Buffy hasn't worked, and I haven't been, to a Doublemeat Palace in years… So why can't I get that stupid jingle out of my head?"

Once again, she found herself on her usual late shift in Arkham… and completely bored. Half the inmates had been relocated to the Rec Room for their "free time," and the other half had already been fed and otherwise taken care of. Orderlies weren't allowed in the Rec Room, nor were they needed due to the surplus of cops, which meant double the orderlies to take care of half the jobs. Just barely halfway through her shift, she found herself longing for the end of tomorrow evening—her last night of work for the weekend.

Sighing, she continued her walk up the hall, noting that the few inmates that she passed were already fast asleep. Four more hours of work to go… and not a damn thing to do but to purposelessly wander the hallways. She couldn't even whistle, for fear of waking them up.

The other orderlies had told her that today would be boring… that it would be best for her to do a quick round and then come and hang out in the snack room until the "free time" was up, and they were needed for the transport of the inmates back to their cells. But she was restless. Being a member of the Scooby Gang had often kept her moving, so staying put in one place for too long—without a significant purpose other than killing time—drove her crazy. She giggled a little at that thought, figuring that if she was going to go crazy then she was in the right place.

She reached the end of the hall and let out another heavy sigh. Bored, bored, bored… her eyes were growing weary, despite the fact that she had gotten plenty of sleep. She needed to do something, and fast. Blinking, she glanced down the left hall—which would ultimately lead back to the snack room—and then turned and glanced down the right hall—which would lead to the Rec Room.

Dawn had been warned that today's batch of inmates in the Rec Room were the craziest of the craziest… hence, the most dangerous. Pursing her lips, she glanced once more down the left hall—to make sure no one was there to see her—then made a quick dash down the right hall. She wouldn't be allowed inside the Rec Room—again, too dangerous for a mere orderly—but would it hurt her just to peek inside?

Justifying it only to herself, she decided that it wouldn't. But, despite that fact, she all but doubled her walking speed. Just in case. She made sure she kept glancing at the cells she passed, so that she was still doing her job, but it was only a quick look. Finally, three cells away from the end of the hall—which would lead to the hall that was mostly the Rec Room—she slowed.

How suspicious would she look if she came speeding around the corner, claiming to just want a "peek" into the room? Taking a deep breath, she kept her speed in check.

Of course, all this was in hopes of catching another sight of the Joker. She knew he was one of the ones in the Rec Room tonight, and it _killed_ her to know that she was so close to getting what she needed from him… but so far away. But there was just no way. Not one single way that she could get a vial or two of his blood while he was sitting amongst cops and fellow inmates. No, she would have to get him alone…

A single cell from the end of the hall, she paused. Coming from around the corner—a bit muffled, so possibly from within the Rec Room itself—was a loud scuffling noise, followed quickly by shouts and the sounds of violently scraping furniture. Her eyes widened. There was a fight going on! Years of being the slayer's sister had attuned her ears to just such a noise. Losing no time, she rounded the corner… only to pause again.

Flying out of the Rec Room's door—literally, airborne—was the Joker himself. And he looked a little dazed, which wasn't helped by the fact that his body crashed into the wall across the way and slid down it. He was chuckling in a low, incoherent way that made Dawn gasp. Blood was spilling forth from cuts on his lip, check, and forehead.

"No," Dawn muttered, about to rush forward.

She couldn't afford this. She couldn't have him get hurt too badly. He was precious cargo to her. However, she paused, two steps into her rush, as another body burst through the door. However, this one did so of its own accord.

A tall, blond, burly police officer all but roared his way out of the Rec Room, his eyes ablaze… and locked on the Joker. His cap had been lost at some point and exposed his crew-cut hairstyle—which did nothing to soften his looks, and he was huffing. He stepped forward, his hand curled into a fist and reeling back. Dawn put her feet into motion again.

She stopped just in front of the crumpled Joker, deflecting the officer's punch. From the Rec Room, sounds of yells and more scuffling leaked out. It looked like Dawn was on her own for little bit. The officer screamed at her to move, but she didn't budge. He made another move to punch—her, presumably, as she completely blocked him off from the Joker—and she deflected it once again, this time following it up by a sucker punch right to the stomach.

"Back off, officer!" she yelled at him as he clutched his middle and stumbled off backwards.

Judo and good old-fashion fisticuffs—she would have to kill Xander later for putting this word in her head—was definitely paying off. She strengthened her stance a little, just as two other officers ran out from the Rec Room.

One ran to the attacker while the other went to Dawn.

"Are you all right? How does an orderly know how to do that?" the one approaching Dawn asked.

Finding that a bit offensive for some reason, Dawn huffed indignantly. "Ever heard of a self-defense class? What the hell was going on?"

She moved away from the officer, who rubbed the back of his head nervously, and knelt down beside the Joker. Absentmindedly she checked his pulse, following the back of this head. Pulse was fine, and no concussion. Really, he was just dazed as his green eyes, which were a bit cloudy, gazed up at nothing. His incoherent chuckled continued. He barely seemed aware that anyone was around him. Meanwhile, the other officer had restrained the attacking officer and had gone back into the Rec Room.

"He said something to Joey," Dawn's officer said, jerking a thumb back towards Blond Crew Cut. "I don't know what it was, but it pissed him off. We didn't even see it coming. All of a sudden he just started to wail on Joker. Sorry that it took us so long to get out here… the other inmates were taking this moment to their advantage. We got them calm now."

Dawn opened her mouth to reply, but stopped as she saw Alisha running up the hall towards them. Her green eyes wide, she quickly glanced between Joker—still dazed—Dawn, and the officer. Finally, she whirled on the officer.

"What happened? Somebody said that a fight was going on," Alisha demanded in all the tones that a boss might use.

The officer sighed, and began to repeat his story. When he had finished, Alisha was shaking her head.

"He'll be reprimanded, of course?" she asked, motioning towards Joey.

"Yes."

Sighing, the Head Orderly said, "Fine. Then let's just go ahead and move all of them back into their cells."

"Um," Dawn said, causing both the officer's and Alisha's attention to turn towards her, "he's still pretty hurt. I think I ought to take him to the doctor."

Alisha's brow furrowed. "I don't know…"

"He's pretty out of it," Dawn assured her. "I think I can get him to walk, but that's about it."

Dawn knew an opportunity when she saw one. Any time alone with the Joker that she could gain would greatly help. Plus, he really _did_ need some medical attention. Inside the Rec Room, the inmates' voices were rising again. Alisha huffed.

"I guess it's the only option we've got, though I'd hate to send a new orderly off on their own with this guy. Do you know where the infirmary is?"

"Yeah," Dawn said, jumping up and pulling the Joker, gently, up with her. "I was shown."

Now wagging a finger at her, her boss turned on her firm voice again. "You take him directly there, you understand? I'll page Dr. Bartholomew."

"Yes, Ma'am," Dawn said.

And she was off. It was a slow go, since Joker had yet to regain control of his consciousness. But, one step at a time, with the evil clown still chuckling dazedly, she finally made it to the infirmary. And a little voice in the back her head said, "Ha. He can't be _too_ dangerous if he can just randomly get his ass kicked by cops… and if I can get him here by myself."

Just as Dawn opened the door to the infirmary, Joker groaned. With an arched brow, he looked down at her—as he stood at least a head and a half taller than she did.

"My, my. I zonk out for just a few minutes, and the loverly doctors send me off with a pretty girl. I really must do this more often, ha!"

Dawn's eyes narrowed as she all but shoved him inside and onto the table. He giggled manically.

"And so forward. Please, miss, never on a first date!"

"I think it's pushing people's buttons that got you in this position in the first place," Dawn murmured, eyeing, rather pointedly, all the cuts and blood on him.

The clown let out a low growl, but cut it short as Doctor Bartholomew entered the room. Dawn couldn't help but smile at the doctor. He was a short old man, beginning to grow a little hunched, but still looked like he was plenty strong to do what this job required of him. He was mostly bald, the little bit of hair he had in gray wisps, and his glasses were thick and black rimmed.

"Well, well. When I had heard that an inmate was beaten up in the Rec Room, I knew immediately it had to be you, Joker. Why am I not surprised?" he said, beginning to pull out the various medical supplies he would need.

Joker waved his hand once, downward, and said, "Ah, Barty, it's because you know lil' ol' me so well."

Bartholomew shook his head and pulled up a stool. Then, he looked over at Dawn as if he had just noticed she was there.

"Ah, new orderly?" he said, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes. Dawn Winters, Doctor," Dawn said.

She moved to put out her hand for him to shake, but stopped as he smiled and put his back to her.

"Nice to meet you. So young to be working in a place like this. Stick around, though, won't you? I'll need your assistance getting him back to his cell."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, isn't she a polite one?" Joker laughed as Bartholomew began to clean the blood away from his wounds—after all, Joker had mostly stopped bleeding now.

"He didn't have a concussion, if you want to know," Dawn offered.

"Hmm. How do you know what to look for?" the doctor asked.

Dawn huffed. Why did everyone assume she couldn't do anything? Story of her life.

"I had some first aid in high school and in college," she said flatly.

The doctor barely grunted a response back at her. Instead, he crossed his arms, staring at the Clown Prince.

"You know the procedure, Joker. Since we have people of so many… _talents_ living here, every time there is bloodshed, we have to do a blood test. Roll up your left sleeve," the doctor instructed.

Joker groaned, giggled, but did as he was told. Dawn's eyes widened as Bartholomew tied the little rubber rope above the bend in Joker's arm and readied the needle. Moments later, her eyes were locked on the little vial as it filled with the crimson stuff.

She was feet away. Only feet! But there was just no way she could get the vial. She was so far away from the nearest exit—that she knew of—that any and all thoughts of a grab-and-run were pointless. Plus, she needed two. But she watched as the vial, now filled with the Joker's precious blood, was set aside for testing. Her sister's cure was just beyond her arm's reach… and there was nothing she could do.

It took a few minutes before Dawn realized that her eyes weren't the only ones locked on something. Turning, she found that both Bartholomew and the Joker had brows arched at her. She felt her face start to warm. When a perfectly sane doctor and a homicidal maniac both look at you with the exact same look at the exact same time… it's time to stop whatever the hell it is that's causing the look.

"Um, is something wrong, Miss Winters?" Bartholomew asked.

"I… uh… have a little problem with blood… lots of it, that is. Takes a lot, I mean, to freak me out," she said.

"Very well, then," Bartholomew said, shaking his head and pulling the Joker's sleeve down. "I'm done here. Let's get him back to his cell."

000

Dawn made it through the rest of her shift, with only an hour left to go, with no further incident. In her mind whirled thoughts of that little vial of the Joker's blood, and how she had been just so _damn_ close. And the mental torture was not over yet. On her little cart she had only one tray of food left… and Joker was the last inmate on her route.

The guard assigned to follow her this evening took up his usual post on the right side of the door to Joker's cell, after having snapped himself out of his own personal little "zone." Joker, looking quite recovered from his little scuffle, was leaning against the wall closest to the glass of the cell.

"Stay back," the guard said lazily, and Joker chuckled.

Dawn stared at the guard. "I thought he was supposed to open the door?"

The guard shook his head. "For Joker, it's better this way."

Joker tugged down his plain, gray-white shirt and turned his ruby smile to her.

"They don't trust me, little one," he said. Then, blinking, his grin widened. "Say… aren't you the little dear-heart that helped me to the infirmary when I got my whoopin'?"

"Yeah," Dawn answered shortly, opening the door and sliding in the tray as quickly as possible.

She slammed the little door shut, standing erect once more. The Joker let out a long, hard laugh. When he finally caught his breath, he shook his head.

"What's wrong? Scared of clowns?"

Dawn crossed her arms. "No. But I've heard a lot about you. And none of it good."

"Not even from Harley?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "She doesn't count!"

Joker laughed again.

"You know, I never did get to thank you."

His voice had changed, taken on a tone that Dawn had never heard of him using before. It was darker, silkier, and she didn't like it. He moved from his place on the wall and pressed his gloved hands up against the glass, moving his face as close as he could as well without pressing his nose up against it too. Dawn, involuntarily, took a step back. Then, chiding herself, she retook her step forward.

He was not a vampire, a demon, or any other type of bogeyman. He was just a human. But… he did creep her out in a major way. Again, of course, he laughed at her.

"You're a strange one, Dawn."

"So are you. Why would you remember my name?" she asked.

He shrugged, stepping back. She chose not to speak again, waiting for some sort of response. But, when she realized that he was just toying with her, she scoffed. Grabbing the cart rather roughly, she turned it around and began to walk off. She was just passing the end of his glass wall when he said, "Hey… has anyone ever told you that you glow, chickadee?"

She turned, gave a sarcastic little grin, and said, "Flattery will get you nowhere, Joker."

She flipped her hair as she turned back around, and the guard—who was leaving to continue with his own rounds—seemed to find that funny, chuckling as he walked away.

Dawn was nearly three feet away from Joker's cell when he shouted his next words.

"Who's flattering? You glow. A faint green color, at that."

She froze.

* * *

End Notes: Well, that should answer a little something. A bigger chunk of the answer—sort of—comes in next chapter. And this is where I deliver the bad news… although I only have a few submission deadlines in July, I have several other fanfics that I'm feeling guilty about not updating. So, it'll be a little while. But I'm still writing, so never fear. I shall always return to my fanfiction, regardless of how long I've been gone. I like the accomplished feeling I get when I finish one off. My August line-up for deadlines is looking a lot like June—if not worse. But, I'm getting around to it all. Please review!

Fun Note: Last chapter's song title was from Lady Gaga's "Telephone."


	7. Let Me Go

A/N- Long time no see, guys. Sorry about that. Like I said last time, I'm continuously working on getting published at some smaller presses while trying to juggle real life stuff—like closing on my very first house, planning my November wedding, etc. But this month cleared up a bit so I decided to use it to get some fanfic chapters out there. So, voila! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 7- Let Me Go

"No, Buffy, I don't think that's it," Xander said, scratching the back of his head as he stared down at his dying friend.

Buffy had yet to be released from the castle's infirmary, and it was making her increasingly edgy. But they all knew why. Despite the fact that she still had months ahead of her, the Wiccans, slayers, and Wiccan-slayers that ran the infirmary had taken it upon themselves to monitor her condition.

Xander cast a worried glance over Buffy's head to the other side of the hospital bed where Willow stood. Buffy's brow narrowed.

"What was that? I'm right, aren't I? Dawn's not in the castle anymore. That's why she hasn't come to see me."

"Buffy, we, uh, just didn't want your feelings to get hurt," Willow said, her soft voice easing the Chosen One a tad.

"According to Giles, Dawn just needs some time to herself. She's staying in the inn in the village. It was all just… a lot, you know, Buff?" Xander explained like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Buffy frowned and nodded. "I know. But, I guess I just want my family with me. I mean, all of you."

She smiled up at her two dearest friends, and they both smiled back. After a moment, she nodded once, decisively.

"She needs time. You're right. I mean, it's hard… me dying again… for real this time. You guys are right. Let her have her space… she'll come back. But—"

Willow nodded sagely. "We'll keep an eye on her. You sleep."

Buffy settled back on her pillows, albeit a little reluctantly, as Xander and Willow made their way out of the room. The two were halfway up the corridor when Xander grabbed his Wiccan friend's arm and drug her off into the shadows.

"Xander! What the hell—?" she asked.

Turning his head left and right, Xander ensured that no one was coming. Finally, he focused his single eye on her and set his jaw.

"You know that story Giles fed us was crap, right?" he asked.

Willow nodded, closing her eyes and sighing. "Yeah, I know."

"Yeah, well, I bet, then, that you also know what I know."

"We don't know that for sure!"

"We might as well know it for sure."

"Xander, can we stop saying 'know'?"

Willow now glanced over both her shoulders before turning back her to him. He nodded and crossed his arms across his black-clad chest.

"Dawn's in Gotham."

"You think she went after the Joker, don't you?"

Xander scoffed. "Your sister, the one blood member of your family you've been able to count on since your mother passed away, is dying. There's a cure that nobody will go after. What would _you_ do, Will?"

Behind them, a pair of slayers-in-training passed by, talking and laughing as if they were walking through the halls of a high school, gossiping about boys from their home town. Neither of the two young girls seemed to notice them in the shadows. As soon as they had gone, Willow sighed. Biting her lip lightly, she groaned.

"I bet that's why I couldn't find her… you know, mystically. I tried to track her any way I knew how. Then I tried her ways that I had to learn. Nothing. Dawnie's totally off the radar. If Giles is helping her go after the Joker… that would explain everything."

Xander's brow furrowed as he leaned back against a darkened wall. "You think Giles has done something to keep her deliberately hidden?"

Willow nodded. "Did something or is doing something. There's nothing else I can think of that would keep her hidden from me like that."

Xander lowered his eye and nodded. For a long moment, neither of the two said anything further on the matter, and neither would look each other in the face. They knew that there was one issue that had yet to be addressed… and finally, it was Xander that voiced it.

"Okay. So… do we tell Buffy?"

Willow's eyes bored down into the castle's stone floor.

"We should… shouldn't we?"

Xander did not answer at first, turning instead to look down the corridor.

"Why?"

Now Willow's eyes shot to her friend. She took a single step forward and shook her head.

"Xander! I can think of several, very good reasons why we should tell Buffy that her _sister_ has gone after a _deranged_ criminal!"

"But I can think of one better why we shouldn't. Buffy wouldn't have bought that stupid village lie if it had been one of us… Dawn's the only one that can get that cure without Buffy knowing. She's the only chance we've got right now to save her. The rest of us… we're too _needed_ to get out and away, but Dawn's already been out and away. And is out and away. All we have to do is help cover for her."

"Xander!" Willow hissed. "You don't understand! The fact that Dawn's doing this by herself is just problem one. Problem two comes along with the fact that everyone in that asylum that she's got to go into to get the Joker is grade-A crazy."

"So?" Xander said, sounding genuinely confused.

"So? Xander, Dawn's the key. Glory or no… trying to put her in an inter-dimensional lock or no, she's still the physical manifestation of the key. Her source has only diminished, not disappeared. Don't you remember what we found out about crazy people and the key?"

Xander's eye widened. "You think they could… see her?"

Willow backed off and put her face in her hands. "I don't know. And I'm not sure what would happen if they could."

"But, Will… as big as that problem would be, if she could get some of Joker's blood for Buffy…"

"I know."

"I'm just saying… let's give it a chance."

It was another one of those long moments, followed by a long sigh before Willow finally nodded.

"Fine. We'll cover for her. But for two weeks, and two weeks only. If we don't hear anything after that—"

"I totally agree," Xander said.

He held out his hand and paused, a big smile cracking his face.

"We don't need to shake on it, Xander," Willow laughed. "Now let's get out of this dark corner. I'm losing lesbian street cred here."

Xander laughed and threw an arm around her, dragging her out into the light of the corridor. Willow leaned in on him, laughing herself, as they made their way to their daily slayer-related duties… passing as they went the two slayers that had walked by earlier. The two girls were now huddled together and whispering like mad.

This only made the two old Scoobies laugh harder.

* * *

End Notes: Well, I hope that was all right. I mean, I know it was short, but I just wanted this chapter to show that the Scoobies weren't entirely blind to the fact that Dawn hasn't been in the castle for about a week. And I'm sorry that it's so… talky. We'll be back with Dawn next chapter, which will hopefully be posted in a timelier manner than this one, LOL. Maybe. Please review!

Fun Note: Last chapter title was inspired by "Bleed It Out" by Linkin Park.


	8. See Who I Am

A/N- Okay, I just need to stop promising "timelier" chapters, guys. I've had some busy times since the last update. Some things happened in November, both good and bad. Due to financial problems and an unexpectedly hospitalized family member, I had to postpone my wedding until this January. On the brighter side, said family member is alive and well—just on a lot more meds—and I finished NaNoWriMo for the first time ever this year! Very excited about that! And, just to let you guys know that I was thinking of you even then, the first paragraph of this chapter was actually written right in the middle of my NaNo fanfic document. So, without further ado, on with the show!

* * *

Chapter 8- See Who I Am

It seemed to Dawn that to have such a lavishly furnished apartment, she spent so little time in it. In fact, most of her time was spent at Arkham, and even when she did have an off night, she was often up in Dick's apartment, working on her Judo. It was like the sole purpose to her apartment was only so she could have a place to sleep… but she had not done much of that recently either. Not since the Joker's little comment.

It unnerved her, to be honest. She had spent the rest of that night, after Joker's too-keen observation, with her arms about herself, like she was constantly cold, and her eyes darting from cell to cell, like she expected all of the inmates to suddenly start pointing and screaming at her. The other orderlies had been concerned for her, asking if any of the inmates had harmed her. She assured them that this had not been the case, that she was just feeling a little under the weather. Alisha had even sent her home an hour earlier, saying that she just could not bear to see the girl looking so "uncomfortable" anymore.

The little revelation was affecting her more than she would have liked. There was not a moment that passed when the Joker's voice, saying those simple little words, did not echo through her head.

"_You glow. A faint green color, at that_."

She had just assumed, after the lack of encounters with crazy people after Glory, that, when the Hell God had died, that her "keyness" had died off with her, leaving only Dawn Summers—the vessel, as Willow had described her physical form once—behind. And, the night after talking with the Joker, Dawn had been ready to cling to this thought. That was until curiosity got the better of her. She had had to make rounds that night to several different inmates—some more infamous than others—like she did most of her work nights for dinner, and she had decided to take advantage of it. Her first stop had been Poison Ivy—the only vegetarian diet in the asylum.

She had followed protocol concerning serving them, but when the guard had began to move on, she had leaned into the glass.

"Miss Ivy?" she had whispered.

The plant woman's vibrant red hair bounced as she smirked up at her from her seat on the bed, her greenish skin an almost sickly color underneath the florescent lights. But even with the poor lighting, Dawn could not deny the beauty that she was renowned for.

"What do you see when you look at me?"

She had only been halfway through her question before Ivy's eyes had widened. She slid, like a cat slinking off a chair, off of her bed, pressing a hand flat against the asylum glass.

"What are you?" she whispered, almost reverently.

Dawn blinked. That question had simply made her sick. Pursing her lips, she repeated her question, more firmly.

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"Green," Ivy whispered. "Power… pure power. Are you connected to the plants as well? Are you one of my kind?"

Dawn had only sighed, pushing her tray cart—and herself—away. She continued her experiment with every other inmate she fed. And every one… every single one… could _see_ her. See the Key in her. The rest of her night had gone pretty much like the one with before had, save for being sent home an hour early—she had refused it.

She had to shake this. And she had to find out what it all meant. Both were easier said than done. Her mission here was to save her sister, like Buffy had done so often for her. But she could not focus. Not after this.

"_What are you?_"

Good question. Two days later, her only off night that week, she was back in Dick's apartment, getting better and better at her Judo—but still not good enough to pin her trainer. She dodged a high kick, striking out with a low one to sweep him off his feet. He jumped it, back-flipping—_actually_ back-flipping—to regain his advantage. She blinked, caught off guard by the obviously advanced move. How long would it take her to get _that_ agile?

She had still not shook herself from the small surprise when he came at her again, easily pinning her. Shirtless—as he usually preferred to practice—and leaning down over her, his long ponytail tickling her left ear lightly, Dawn found herself fighting hard against a deep blush. He narrowed his eyes at her, confusion all over the young man's face.

"What's up, Dawn?" he said, letting her out of his pin to sit back, cross-legged, on the mat.

Dawn propped herself up on her elbows. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You just seem… out of it. Did something happen?"

She pulled herself up to sit cross-legged as well. With a heavy sigh, she rubbed her shoulder, eyes adverted. Dick was so easy to talk to, and she had no idea why this was. But no matter how easy, she could not very well tell him _exactly_ what was wrong.

_Oh, an inmate—the Joker, as a matter of fact—mentioned that I "glow" the other day. You see, I used to be the human form for a mystical, inter-dimensional Key. Or, at least I thought "used to" was the case. Nope, turns out that it didn't go away after my sister—a vampire slayer—killed the Hell God that wanted to use me to get home._

Yeah… that didn't sound crazy in the least. Dawn sighed, shaking her head.

"Something was said at work the other night," she began, trying to keep it as vague as possible. "Nothing really bad… just confusing. It's kind of kept me off guard since then."

Dick's eyes narrowed. "What was said?"

Dawn blinked, eyes wide. Then, looking away once more, she muttered, "I'd rather not say."

Dick held up a dismissive hand. "I understand. So… why is it bothering you?"

She did not answer immediately. After all, without the specifics, it was pretty damn hard to describe how she felt. Dick seemed to understand, putting no rush on her to explain. And it was a long moment before she felt confident that she could.

"This thing that was said… was a big part of my life a long time ago. And back then, when I was first learning of it, it was kind of a bad surprise. It really messed me up. And—"

She froze, trying to consider her next statement. After all, she was not sure how much she wanted him to know of her just yet… well, what she wanted him to know that was _true_.

"And?" Dick asked.

She blushed, the gentleness in his question making the small truth that she was considering withholding slip right out.

"The night I found out about this… thing, I slit my wrists," she said, looking away.

Her whole face was burning, embarrassed. She could not look at him as she continued.

"I'm not proud of it. It was a bad call, without a doubt. I ended up in the hospital that night, and then wearing bandages on my wrists for a little while until the cuts healed. My mother died not too long after that, and it bothers me—" She paused here, her throat tight as she fought tears. "It bothers me that that was one of the last memories that she might have had of me before she died."

Her face was still determinately turned away from Dick. What must he think of her? What must he think of a person that would do that to themselves? But she felt his hand reach out, coming to rest on hers. She gasped, a single tear rolling free, as she looked at him.

There was no judgment in his eyes. Only worry and concern for her. She smiled, sighing.

"I'm sure your mother thought nothing bad of it, Dawn. But, this thing that was said… do you still feel this way about it?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No. No. I've come to terms with it. And, like I said, I thought it was out of my life. But, evidently, it's not. I just worry that… that it means that something bad could happen. Um, that last part is sort of difficult to explain, but this thing could honestly mean the coming of very bad stuff. And I don't know what to do, if that becomes the case."

Dick leaned back, seemingly lost in thought. He crossed his arms over his still-bare chest and sighed. Finally, he only shrugged.

"You know what? Sometimes, Dawn, we can only burn the bridges as we come to them. There's no point in worrying over a future that no one can possibly predict. I know that none of that is much comfort, but it's true."

Dawn mulled his words over, her eyes cast downward. Finally, she grinned, standing.

"You're right. It's just… when bad stuff happens to me, to my family, it tends to be major-league _bad_. Gets a person worrying, you know? But you're right. You are. But…"

Dick stood, eyes narrowed. "But what?"

She shrugged. "I just wish I knew what it meant, this thing coming back to bite me in the ass."

He laughed, and she joined in. Taking the smallest of steps forth, he sighed, resting a soft, tentative hand on her shoulder. Her eyes widened, just for a moment, before she looked up at him.

"In all seriousness, Dawn," he said, quietly, "if you ever need anything—and I mean _anything_—come to me. I'd hate to see anything happen—"

He stopped, glancing away. Dawn blinked. A moment passed. Then another. Finally, his gaze came back to her, their eyes meeting. The awkwardness that had built in those few moments melted away, and both began to lean toward one another. Dawn was slowly getting to her tiptoes, their lips growing ever nearer…

And, only inches away, Dick paused, his eyes going to the door of his loft just as a soft cough broke the moment.

"Barbara," he said as Dawn whirled, sure that she had successfully "hair smacked" him.

A young woman, roughly the same age as Dick, stood in the doorway. Her bright red hair was loose, hanging just past her bare shoulders, and the black dress she wore was short and unornamented. Her lips were painted a dark red, almost black, and they parted in an unreadable grin.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said.

Dawn blinked, feeling her face flush. Dick sighed, stepping out from behind her.

"What's up?" he asked.

Barbara—as Dick had addressed her—cocked her head to the right, her eyes still glued to Dawn.

"Not going to introduce her? How rude," she said, stepping forward and sticking out a pale hand. "Barbara Gordon. Pleased to meet you."

Dawn shook her hand, trying desperately not to look like she had gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar before dinner time.

"Dawn. Dawn Winters. And, I'm so sorry, but I have to run. Gotta get some sleep. Work tomorrow, and all that," she said, breaking the greeting and backing toward the apartment door, grabbing her shoes as she went. "Bye."

"Bye," she heard Dick say, his voice more of a question than a statement as she bolted from the loft.

Back in her own apartment on the floor below, she threw herself onto her bed and grabbed a pillow. Shoving it to her face, she screamed. When she could no longer breathe, she tossed it behind her head, and rolled to her side, staring out the window at the night sky.

A girlfriend. Dick had a girlfriend. And the two of them had almost… How stupid could she be? And why the hell did all her boyfriend choices have to be bad? Seriously? Even Buffy, when she dated the wrong type of guy—i.e. vampire—they were still available and not wanting to kill her.

Well, not while they were dating, at least.

Dick was probably being raked over the coals, she thought, scooting up to rest her head on her pillows. It served him right.

Without even bothering to change into her pajamas, she pulled herself under the blankets. Sometimes it was better just to sleep the rest of a day away.

…

She just could not handle it anymore. The confusion, the worrying, the wondering, none of it. So, as soon as Dawn had caught up on all her duties that following night at Arkham, she made a beeline for the inmate's cell who had started all of her troubles—and was continuing to be a source of them. The Joker.

It was late, so most were asleep behind their walls of glass, but Dawn was pleased to see that Joker lay awake, stretched out on his cot, reading. Out of sheer morbid curiosity, she leaned down, trying to catch the title of the book. But he spotted her too quickly, shutting it with a snap and sliding it out of sight. His smile growing even wider, he leapt to his feet, running the few steps it took to get to the glass.

"Goody, goody! A visitor! You'd be surprised how few of those I get," he said, a laugh following this statement.

Dawn crossed her arms, glancing both ways before replying, "I somehow doubt that."

The hall around her was empty, and the surrounding cells were filled with nothing but snoring inmates. Joker's permanent smile was sly now as he mimicked her earlier glance before leaning so close that his breath fogged the glass.

"Ooh, a clandestine meeting in the dead of night… you better be careful, kiddo. Harley's the jealous type," he whispered, his voice taking on that deeper, silkier tone again.

Dawn shuddered, and his grin widened once more. Her face stony, she locked eyes with the madman.

"I wanna know," she said.

His brow arched. "Want to know what? The secret to my good looks, to my witty personality? I'm afraid I can't reveal those little tidbits to you, unless…"

His eyes drifted to the cell's door. Dawn rolled her eyes, taking a single step forward.

"I know how you got your 'good looks,' and as for your personality, I'd be willing to guess that you've been that sadistic your entire life," Dawn hissed.

Joker laughed. "Oooh, down, kitty."

"What I want to know," she said, ignoring him, "is what _exactly _it is you see when you look at me."

He pressed a gloved hand to the glass, the look in his eye hungry.

"You know," he whispered, intrigued.

"Tell me."

"I've already told you, Dawn."

It bothered her, him using her name, and she shuddered again.

"I need details. Is it bright? What does the glow look like? Is it coming from my skin?"

Joker leaned back, crossing his arms as he huffed out a tiny laugh.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you what I see when I look at you… and you'll tell me what it means. Got it?"

"Deal. You first," she said.

He leaned forward again, his eyes almost twinkling, but dark.

"It's bright and shiny, like a new penny, but green, like Pam's precious plants. And it's not coming from your skin… it's more like, around you."

"Around me? Like an aura?"

Joker snapped his fingers, nodding. "Yeah. Just like that."

"That's it? That's all you see?"

"Right on the money. Now… you tell me why I see it, toots."

Dawn swallowed hard, drinking in the information. She looked away from the clown, her eyes unfocused. Joker growled, slamming the side of his fist into the glass.

"Answer me! What are you?"

She really wished people would stop asking her that. Turning her attention back to him, she shrugged.

"You're seeing things. I've got work to do."

"No! We had a deal! Come back here! Come back here, or I'll wring your little neck!" he screamed as she strode off up the hall.

And it was a testament to how often screaming occurred in the asylum that none of the surrounding inmates even fidgeted in their sleep as he raged on.

* * *

End Notes: So close, huh, for Dawn and Dick? How did everyone enjoy that? I know it was kind of short, but I know that some of the upcoming chapters will get back to the length of some of the earlier ones. Please review!

Fun Fact: Last chapter's title was inspired by 3 Doors Down's song, "Let Me Go."


	9. Little Lies

A/N- LOL at all the wonderful reviews I got last chapter. Most—if not all—of you were of a similar mind. Well, I found myself feeling this next chapter, so here it is! Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 9- Little Lies

Her shift could not have ended sooner. She had almost forgotten to clock out in her hurry to leave the asylum. They had had to sedate the Joker to get him to stop screaming… about her.

Of course, no one but Dawn knew what it was that maniac had been yelling his lungs out about. Now, with her arms hugged tightly about herself, she tore down the stone steps of Arkham, stopping at the very last one. She simply stood there, knowing that she should call for a cab, but she just could not summon the strength to reach for her phone. Instead, she just continued to stand there, staring blankly out at the darkened parking lot.

She just pissed off one of the most dangerous criminals that this place held. That had been dumb. _So_ dumb. With a hard swallow, she finally wiggled her hand into her purse, withdrawing the silver phone. But Gotham's taxi services was not the call she made.

It rang twice on the other end before, finally, Giles answered with a curt, "Hello?"

"Giles!" she all but yelled into the phone. Taking a second to calm her voice, she tried again, "I have something to tell you, like majorly huge something!"

"Oh, right, yes. That's correct. Yes, I was indeed expecting your call," he said, his voice tight and forcing the business-like tone from it.

Dawn narrowed her eyes, gazing sideways at the cellular in her hand.

"What? Giles, it's me," she said.

"Oh, yes, I'm quite aware of that. I'm actually here working on the problem with Willow and Xander," he said, and Dawn could almost imagine the librarian turning in the direction of her sister's two best friends as he put the slight emphasis on their names.

Eyes wide, Dawn muttered, "Oh. Right. They're in the room with you."

"Yes, but I've still made no progress," he said.

Dawn huffed, rolling her eyes. To have been a Watcher, in charge of training the slayer and keeping her identity a secret from the world, Giles would never make it as a spy. She shook her head, her ponytail sweeping her back as she did so.

"I gotcha. I'll try back later," she said.

"Very well. Oh, but didn't you just say that this call could not be missed?"

It took a minute before she realized what he was _really_ asking. With a laugh, she shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I mean, I know I said it was majorly important, but it's not like I-solved-world-hunger important."

Or I-got-the-cure important, she thought.

"Right. Then I look forward to your call again. Take care," Giles said just before the line disconnected.

Dawn stared at her phone's screen as it flashed the time that the call had taken up. She glanced back up at the foreboding asylum and sighed. Going to her contacts, she dialed the number for the taxi service.

"I've got to get the hell away from here," she murmured to no one.

…

Giles snapped his phone shut, turning back to Willow and Xander, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder before him. If he didn't know better, from the looks on their faces, he would have thought that this was some sort of intervention. He slipped the phone into his pocket and sighed.

"Sorry about that. Very important call from one of ours. In fact, I was just about to bring up that I needed a hand with some research," he said, straightening his glasses.

Willow rolled her eyes while Xander huffed.

"We know who that was, Giles," the witch said, crossing her arms.

He raised a brow. "Oh?"

Xander took a step forward, shaking his head.

"It was Dawn, Giles. We know that she's in Gotham. And we know that you helped her get there. I mean, honestly, man, how long do you think that we were going to fall for that whole 'she's in the village' story?"

The Watcher shifted in his seat, crossing his arms. He allowed his eyes to slip back and forth between the two before he finally shrugged.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Both groaned.

"Giles! Give us a little bit of credit here. You know that we're not that dumb. She's in Gotham, trying to get the Joker's blood, and you got her there. Without any of us noticing, and now I can't find her," Willow said, striding forth to stand just before him. Bending down, she tilted her head just so slightly to the left, adding, "What spell did you use? What spell did you use that I couldn't possibly find her? I can't even find her source. She's in danger, Giles, and don't tell me that you haven't thought of it, the one thing that could be a big problem with her."

In a moment of weakness, Giles allowed his gaze to slip guiltily to the side as something seemed to click within him. But it was only a moment. Clearing his throat, he stood, forcing Willow back to her feet.

"I honestly have no idea what you mean. Is Dawn not in the village? And you can't find her?"

His heart was not really in faking the sincerity in his voice. Xander and Willow knew, and there was no way around it. But he wasn't going down without a fight.

He watched as the two exchanged a glance again. Finally, Xander nodded.

"All right, Giles. You _don't know_ where she's at. We get it. We'll leave you alone," he said, turning and opening the room's door.

Giles fought hard against the relieved sigh rising in his chest. Halfway out into the hall, Willow stopped, turning to glance over her shoulder at him.

"I know you're pretending that you have a lack of involvement in this, but… we weren't going after her. Not yet, anyhow."

Giles's firm stance softened as he narrowed his gaze at the young woman. Willow smiled a little coyly at him.

"But, despite the danger… thanks. You did what we, apparently, couldn't. She has two weeks, Giles, and then I go to Gotham after her."

With a half smile of his own, he shook his head.

"I still have no idea what you're talking about, Willow."

Chuckling as she left, she muttered, "Yeah, I know," just before shutting the door.

…

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, awakening Dawn from her thoughts. With a heavy sigh, she shoved her hand into her purse, digging for her damned keys, as she stepped into the hallway. Her purse so held her attention that she did not even notice Dick standing by her door until she was right in front of him.

She blinked as he smiled at her, doing that nervous head scratch that he was so inclined to.

"Stalker much?" she said, grinning at him.

He _blushed_. He actually _blushed_. Looking more embarrassed than Dawn had ever seen anyone look, he cast his eyes toward the carpeted floor, and suddenly she was feeling a bit embarrassed herself.

"I'm only kidding!" she said.

He chuckled and said, "I knew that. I did."

She shook her head, slipping the key into the door's lock.

"Though, I don't think that your girlfriend would like you hanging outside some other girl's door," she said, turning it and the knob, letting herself inside.

She invited him in as an afterthought, and he almost tiptoed inside, shutting the door quietly behind. She tossed her purse and keys onto the breakfast bar and turned, surprised to find the confused look on his face.

"Girlfriend?" he asked, sounding genuine.

Dawn slowly nodded.

"The girl who showed up last night in your apartment," she said just as slowly, as if explaining something new to a five-year-old.

He blinked once, face completely blank. Finally, the proverbial lightbulb switched on and he said, "Oh!"

"There it is," Dawn laughed, taking a seat on her fluffy couch.

"You're talking about Barbara! Oh, Babs isn't my girlfriend… well, honestly, we _used_ to date."

"Ex-girlfriend. Even better," Dawn said, curling her feet underneath her.

Dick laughed. "No, no, it's not like that. We're just friends now. I mean, that's a _big_ used to, honest. Actually… we sort of work together. Sort of. But we're not dating, really."

Dawn leaned forward without thinking about it. "Really?"

Dick strolled into the living room, taking a seat in the recliner just off to the side of the couch.

"Yeah. Wait. Is… is that why you bolted last night?"

Now it was Dawn's turn to blush. She shrugged, unable to meet his eyes.

"Well, um, I just thought that, maybe, she wouldn't have liked me, you know… being there," she stumbled through.

Dick laughed. "Really? Well, I can assure you that that isn't the case. But, to make up for the confusion, how about, if you're feeling up to it, we go pick up where we left off with your training session?"

The offer was tempting, more tempting that she probably would have cared to admit. In fact, sitting in the living room with Dick had almost made her forget the events of the evening. Then, it all came screaming back to her. She could hear the anger and rage in the Joker's voice in her head as he threatened to wring her neck. She crossed her arms low about her stomach, squeezing lightly, as if that would make it all go away.

"Honestly, I'm not feeling too great right now," she said.

"Oh," Dick said, hurt clear on his face.

Dawn's eyes widened. "No! I mean, I'm not trying to avoid you or anything. I just… I had a bad night at work, and I'd really just like to sleep right now."

He seemed to brighten, just a little, at that. But a moment later, another shadow fell across his face.

"Are you all right?"

She smiled, "Yeah, really. Just one of those nights."

Dick laughed. "Well, I know about those. I'll leave so you can sleep. How about tomorrow night for the training?"

"I'd like that."

Dick stood, making his way to the door as he murmured a "good-bye." Then, just before reaching the door, he paused. Reaching into his jacket's pocket, he withdrew a pen and a scrap of paper, jotting something down on it. Turning, he crossed the distance between them and handed it to her.

"My cell number. This is going to sound creepy, but I just can't shake the feeling that you might need this. If you get into any sort of trouble, anything, please call me."

He made his way back over to the door as Dawn gazed at the number. Before he could leave, she said, "Hey! What if I just need to talk? Can I call it then?"

She was teasing him, flirting and testing the waters. He grinned over his shoulder at her.

"Only if I'm not upstairs. If I'm there, I'd rather you just come up," he said, leaving.

Dawn couldn't wipe off the goofy smile that that had put on her face. And, thankfully, it was Dick's voice, repeating his invitation, that played in her thoughts as she went to sleep, completely erasing all scary images of the Joker.

* * *

End Notes: Wow, really short. I'm so sorry for that, but the next chapter, I have a feeling, is going to be a little epic in length. Also, we've got some big things coming up in this story, and I can't wait to write them all for you! How did everyone like the interactions in this chapter? I look forward to hearing from all of you. Please review!

Fun Fact: The title of last chapter was inspired by the title of the Within Temptation song, "See Who I Am."


	10. Dance with the Devil

A/N- Thanks for all those wonderful reviews on the last chapter! I'm really excited to be writing this one, which is a chapter that I've been looking forward to since chapter 1. I hope you all enjoy it too.

* * *

Chapter 10- Dance with the Devil

Dawn had never noticed just how much they all stared at her. But, as she passed out tray after tray the next night at Arkham, she saw how every single pair of eyes of each inmate was glued to her. Every so often they did drift, but it was only to scan her form. The guard that followed her around did not seem to notice, and, if he did, he must have thought that it was only the fact that a pretty girl was feeding them. Finally, when all the trays had been handed out—save for those who were having their recreational time, meaning that someone else would feed them once they had been brought back—Dawn sighed. At least the Joker had been one of those out on recreational time. Necessary or not, she was just not ready to face him again. Not yet.

She dropped the tray bus off at the asylum kitchen and made her way to the orderly station at the front of the asylum. Dawn reached back, tightening her ponytail back into place. It was a long night, and she had only gotten in three hours ago. She fought down a yawn, finding it ill-placed because she had gotten plenty of sleep the day before. She reached up and gingerly touched her fingertips to the underneath of each of her eyes, checking for bags. When she found none, she let out a little sigh of relief. Apparently, it was not getting to her as badly as she thought it was.

"Five more to go," she said as she checked her watch upon reaching the desk, the man sitting behind it—Steve—looking up to smile at her.

She chuckled as she shrugged. "Sorry," she muttered.

But Steve shook his head. "Hey, we all feel it. Consider counting the hours until go time your official initiation into working here, kiddo."

"Yay," Dawn deadpanned, twirling one index finger in the air.

Steve laughed again, standing. He muttered a "catch you later" as he grabbed up a paperwork-filled clipboard and took off in the opposite direction from which Dawn had just come. She sighed, leaning her back against the front desk.

The halls were spotless, the inmates that were in their cells were fed, and all the proper paperwork had been filled out. Until further notice, Dawn had jack left to do. She would have never guessed this to be the job to want to bring a book to, but she was seriously considering it for her next shift. She groaned, leaning her head way back so that only the ceiling occupied her line of sight.

In truth, she could have been putting this time to better use. She could be talking with a few more of the inmates, trying to see how they felt about a glowing girl serving them their dinner, or she could have been looking for a way to access any of the Joker's blood samples in the lab. But Dawn only stood there, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. She had always been the type to make gut decisions, do what _felt_ right, and, right now, none of those options felt like the one she ought to go with. After all, what would her employers do if they caught her talking about glowing to the inmates? Or stealing from the lab? The termination of her employment, in either situation, would be the best that she could hope for.

At that moment, the familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the freshly-dried floors echoed in the air. Dawn brought her eyes back down to Earth in time to see Alisha fighting with her purse, presumably trying to get her keys out. Nice to know that other people had that problem too.

"Dawn, oh, thank God," she said, skidding to a halt amongst a storm of her own blonde curls. "I was hoping I would run into someone I could trust."

Dawn lifted a brow. What had she done to deserve that little compliment? But Alisha did not seem to notice the younger woman's confusion, instead fumbling with the keys that she had finally recovered.

"I've got to head out; family emergency. I only got the call a few minutes ago. Anyway, I was in the middle of helping the guards transport the patients from the Rec Room back to the cells. I hate to ask someone who's only be here for a such a short time to do this—as you know—but you did so well on your own last time. Could you go fill in for me?"

The familiar tugging feeling in the bottom of Dawn's stomach alerted her to the fact that, apparently, she felt that this was a good idea. Trying hard to not smile in a self-appreciative way, she nodded.

"I'm on it," she said, laying a sympathetic hand on her superior's shoulder. "I hope everything works out with your family emergency."

Alisha spread her crimson lips into a grateful smile. "Me too. But we both better go. See you tomorrow night… you do work then, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bye," Dawn said.

She began to move past her, and stopped. Turning, Dawn eyed the retreating figure of Alisha as she made her exit out of Arkham. Her gut was telling her something else now… that something was not right. But Alisha was gone, and Dawn shook the feeling from her body. After all, this was a rare opportunity. She turned and jogged up the distance of hallway up the east corridor, coming to a stop only when she spotted the mass of guards in the doorway of the Rec Room. She slowed her pace, tightening her swaying ponytail once more, and approached the closest guard.

"E-excuse me," she said, turning her head away for a moment to try and see past the mob of security officers. When this yielded nothing, she turned her attention back upon the seasoned guard—the scars showing his experience—adding, "Miss… um, Alisha sent me."

Why had it just now occurred to her that she had never learned Alisha's last name? It was odd, but try as she might, she could not even recall catching it on the laminate that all Arkham orderlies were made to wear. But the guard seemed to know who she spoke of, nodding when he spoke next.

"I don't know why. This is too dangerous for orderlies, but you're here and we'll put you to good use. Right now, we're just trying to get them all sorted out."

Dawn pursed her lips, careful not say the many things that passed through her mind. Some of the guards were so arrogant about their positions on the Arkham staff, as if being an orderly here was easy. But, sometimes, it was best to keep quiet, so Dawn merely stepped away and watched as the guards began to "sort out" the inmates. One by one, a guard, with an inmate in hand, would leave the barricade of armed officers. A few of the patients she recognized from her feeding rounds, and every single one of them gave her a lingering stare as they were led out past her. She tried her best to look like she did not notice this. Seven guard-inmate pairs later, it was only two guards—one of whom was the guard Dawn had spoken with—and herself. The guard who had spoken to her darted forth, taking Poison Ivy into his custody. The plant woman's eyes widened as she glided past Dawn, her mouth making words that were either too low to hear or too high. The guard that remained stood firmly in the doorway of the Rec Room and shook his head.

"You're very popular with them," he said, a chuckle hidden in his voice. Dawn did not find it all that funny.

She could see now what the guard had meant by "sorting them out." Apparently the patients had been arranged into a single-file line, marching up one by one to a designated guard. An inmate that Dawn recognized from her work alone stepped up the last guard, who turned and spared Dawn a worried look. Brow arched, she leaned around to see the familiar, ever-grinning visage of the Joker staring back at her—the only inmate left within the room. Lifting his handcuffed hands, he did the "finger-wiggle" wave at her, winking.

"Honey, I can switch with you. You can take Mr. Evans here back to his cell, and I can take the Joker," the guard offered.

Apparently the anxiety that Dawn was feeling was all-too clear on her face. For half a moment, she almost accepted the offer. But that was when common sense had kicked in. Hadn't she taken this job to get closer to the Joker, to get his blood? Walking him back to his cell was one of those rare opportunities of being alone with the madman. Straightening herself, Dawn swallowed down all her fear.

After all, he was only human. Or, at least, that was what she kept telling herself.

"No, that's fine. I can handle him," she said, stepping forward.

The guard did not look too convinced, but he nodded nonetheless.

"You have a set of keys?" he asked.

Dawn patted her scrubs' right pants pocket. "All orderlies do, just in case."

"And you know the procedure for this?"

"Oh, don't worry, Frankie. If she doesn't, I'll be kind enough to fill her in," Joker said, followed by a minute of chuckling.

"Shut it, clown," Frankie said before turning back to Dawn. "Do you?"

She nodded emphatically. "I do. I've seen Alisha do it a million times."

That seemed to placate Frankie as he nodded and muttered, "Stay close to me." He turned, leading his inmate up the hall as Dawn, in what she might possibly reflect back on one day as the boldest move of her life, strode up to the Joker, grasped his arm, and began to follow after Frankie the guard.

"Well, aren't you the little minx," Joker said, his voice low enough to keep the conversation between himself and Dawn.

Joker's steps were heavy and slow, no matter how hard Dawn tried to tug him along. Frankie and his inmate were already several feet ahead of them.

"Quiet," Dawn muttered, trying her best to regain their lost speed.

"Yes, quite the minx. I mean, you're being so _rough_ with me… and that stunt you pulled the other night… giving me the ol' double-cross. And I fell for it! I'll tell you something, Dawnie, you're a girl after my own heart."

No matter how fast she walked, or how tight her grip on Joker's arm was, Frankie was getting farther and farther away. Dawn took a deep breath that let itself loose in the form of a huff. Something was off. Something was _way_ off.

"Don't call me that," Dawn said, casting a sideways glance at Joker.

He was staring right at her, his smile stretched even farther across his face—if that was possible—than what was normal. She fought a shudder and turned her focus back on the hallway.

"Aw, what's the matter, kiddo? I think Dawnie's a cute name," he said, a mad cackle of laughter escaping his ruby lips.

She chose not to reply this time, her eyes locked on Frankie's back. Any moment he was going to round a corner, and then it would just be her and the clown. Her lips parted, about to cry out for him to wait for her, but decided against it in the last minute. After all, she didn't want to seem childish… and wasn't "alone with the Joker" exactly what she needed?

But her skin was crawling, and her stomach was doing summersaults. The world was off balance, and she couldn't figure out why.

"So, tell me, what brings a pretty young thing like yourself here to dismal Arkham to work? Money trouble? Boy troubles? Mob troubles?" Joker laughed, his steps so slow now that they were almost at a dead stop.

"That's none of your business, now come on," Dawn said, jerking him forward a few steps.

He laughed, shaking his head. "So forceful. I usually don't like that in a chick, but for you… I think I'd make an exception. After all, it's not every day that a guy meets a gal that actually _glows_."

Dawn's throat suddenly felt like she was trying to swallow gravel. Any second, Frankie would be gone, and here she was with the Clown Prince of Crime, talking about the one subject that she—at the moment—was trying to avoid. And he knew it. His grin was sly, his eyes now locked on her from out of the corner.

"It's not my problem, the things that you see. It's my problem when it concerns getting you back to your cell," Dawn hissed.

Joker wasn't even walking anymore. They were stopped right in the middle of the deserted corridor, no matter how hard Dawn tried to urge the madman forward. And Frankie with his inmate was a distant memory.

Alone, utterly and completely, the Joker leaned himself, causally, against the nearest wall, chuckling at the all-too-plain apprehension on her face. He lifted his wrists, pushing and pulling the chain of the handcuffs, as if testing their resistance. Dawn let go of him, her eyes drifting, for a moment, up at the security camera. There was always somebody watching them. So, she wasn't _really_ alone with him. And he wouldn't dare try anything.

But, then again, how often had he escaped in the past.

"Let's talk, Dawnie-Dawn. You know, I like to talk with people… usually all I get in return is screaming, but c'est la vie."

"You need to be back in your cell, Joker," Dawn said, putting every ounce of strength that she could behind those words.

"Heh, yeah, right. Kiddo, you haven't been completely straight with me."

"I told you, you're seeing things."

Joker waved his cuffed hands dismissively. "No, no, no. That's only part of it, cutie-pie."

"Stop calling me that. Stop calling me pet names. I'm not your 'cutie-pie' or your 'toots' or your _anything_."

He was getting to her, unnerving her. She knew that, and, worst of all, he knew it. Lazily, he pushed himself off the wall, leaning ever-so-slightly into her. Every fiber of Dawn's body screamed at her to step back, to get away, but pure stubbornness refused to move her feet. Less than a foot apart, the Key and the Clown locked eyes in an unconscious battle of the wills.

"It's not just me that you haven't been straightforward with, and you know that. I know a person with a personal agenda when I see one. And you might as well be wearing a neon sign for it. Problem is: I can't figure out what it is you want. You seem to have your own little fascination with me—which, is mutual, _toots_—but I just don't know why."

Dawn pursed her lips, thinking hard. Was now the time? Was this her moment? Maybe, if she spilled all to the Joker, it would catch him off-guard. And then, it would just be a matter of getting what she came for. But she maintained her silence, crossing her arms across her chest. She would play this one cool.

"And if I did?" she said, voice low. "Have a personal agenda, that is."

Joker's lips spread into his widest smile. "Oh, you're going to be _fun_."

Dawn heard the click a second too late. She had only a moment to register the Joker's hand—free of its cuffs—raise up to her arm before an electric pain shot throughout her body. It lasted the length of a single breath, and then her world was black.

…

Dawn's mind awoke before the rest of her did. The earth was hard beneath her, and it felt cold, even through her scrubs. She was moving too, and for one foggy moment, she thought she was in the middle of an earthquake. The next to catch up with her mind was her ears, noticing the familiar noises of passing traffic and a running engine. Finally, her eyes blinked open. Her vision was blurred, and every part of her ached. Her arms were behind her, and she tried her best to pull them forward, only to find her efforts impeded. It was another moment before she figured out that both her arms were bound by a very rough and itchy rope, and that her feet—at her ankles—were in a similar predicament. She tried a deep breath, her lungs feeling hot and empty, only to find that air would not come through her mouth. Noting that it was duct-taped shut, she then changed her breathing tactics to "nose only" and found—to her relief—that nothing was wrong in that department.

Where was she? What truck had hit her? Dawn tried her best to recall her last moments of consciousness as she began to take in her surroundings.

She was in a truck… a very empty delivery truck by the looks of it. Random loose articles bounced and thudded against the truck's empty bay alongside her. Finally, she found the front of the vehicle—only two chairs for driver and one passenger—and immediately recognized the green hair and pale blue uniform of Arkham. Cackling madly, the Joker was the truck's sole other occupant.

She groaned, low, as she let her head fall back against the cool metal flooring. A joy buzzer… had that really been what had knocked her out? How could he had possibly had gotten it? And when? … And was her stove on at her apartment?

She shook her head. Totally not important at the moment. Sighing, she realized that she had gotten what she wanted… she was completely alone with the Joker with no hopes of being interrupted. But maybe trying to get his blood as his hostage was not the best situation. She _really_ needed a plan B.

Extending her neck to catch a glimpse behind her she saw that she was fairly close to the back doors of the truck where a silver latch gleamed in the passing moonlight that shone from the windshield. She cast a cautious glance in the Joker's direction. He seemed rather preoccupied with… something. Slowly, as slowly as she could possibly manage, she began to slide herself towards the latch. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get over to it, maybe she could knock the doors open. Sure, rolling out of a speeding truck was going to hurt like hell… but it had to better than the alternative.

Careful not to hit any of the loose items, Dawn wiggled herself back a little bit. She cast her eyes back upon the Joker. Having still taken no notice of her, she wiggled back a little more. Suddenly, Joker slammed his foot down on the breaks, yanking the steering wheel to the left before straightening it out once more. Dawn squealed through her duct tape as she slammed into the left wall, and then into the two seats at the front. She heard the clown shift the vehicle into park just before he turned to grin back at her.

"You're awake finally," he said, jumping over her, just to crouch down beside her.

Dawn groaned, feeling a bit woozy from the impact she had just suffered. With a chuckle, the clown reached out a gloved hand and yanked the tape from her mouth, causing her to give a tiny yip of pain.

She took a deep breath as she Joker shook his head, shaking the tape from his hand.

"You won't get away with this," Dawn hissed.

Sure, it was clichéd. More importantly, however, it was probably wrong. After all, only one person truly knew where she was at, and by the time Giles figured out she was missing… well, it might be too late. Two Summers girls taking the big checkout across an ocean from one another… lovely.

Joker laughed, moving to sit, cross-legged, beside her, patting her shoulder like they were old friends.

"I don't make it a habit to take hostages. Well, not hostages like you. No, I like my hostages to be big names, people that will be quickly missed."

Injury, consider insult added.

"But," Joker continued, "you're interesting, Dawnie. In fact, you're one of the most interesting people I've met in a _long_ time. Like I said, you glow. And I get the feeling that it has a bigger purpose other than looking pretty. And don't lay there and try to deny it again. That'll only make me angry."

He playfully beeped her nose, gazing expectantly down upon her.

"You're right," she said. "I do glow."

In for a penny, in for pound. After all this mess, a little truth couldn't possibly hurt her.

"Yes, but why? That's what I want to know. And why is it that it was only my fellow Arkhamites and I that could see it?"

He leaned in, like he was watching a suspenseful moment in a favorite television program. Sitting up, he leaned over her, face mere inches away as he pinned her between his arms.

"What _are_ you, Dawn?" he whispered, his hot breath hitting her right in her face.

"I'm a Key, Joker. I'm a mystical Key, and that's all I really know," she said, for some unfathomable reason, whispering back at him.

"A key?"

"Uh-huh."

He wasn't moving, and she was distinctly uncomfortable with his closeness. She wiggled, as if that would remind the clown of his positioning, but he only continued to stare down at her, his frozen smile emblazing itself in her mind.

"I have friends and family. _Powerful_ friends and family that will miss me. And believe you me, you don't want to be the one they come after," Dawn said, a moment of true bravery welling up inside of her.

"Is that so?" he whispered.

She nodded.

Chuckling, he pulled back from her, leaping to his feet.

"You want to know the funny thing about keys, Dawnie?"

He was back in the driver's seat just as Dawn said, "What?"

Adjusting his rearview mirror so that he could see her, he grinned into it.

"They just always seem to get… _misplaced_."

Her voice caught in her throat, no Buffy-esque reply coming to her as the truck roared back onto the road, filled with the sound of Joker's laughter.

* * *

End Notes: A happy belated holidays for those of us who celebrate. And for those of you that don't, I still hope you found happiness and joy in the past few days—and maybe continue to find it. How did we like this one? I'll go ahead and tell you, this originally had a different chapter title—a more humorous one. However, as I was shuffling through my music, the particular song that this title is inspired by came up, and it just so fit the mood that I decided to change it. On that note, would anyone like it if, maybe, I made a playlist of these songs and linked to it on my profile? Just throwing that out there. Also, and this is less happy news, I'm catching up to where my outline ends—not the story, just the outline. So it's going to be a little while before we see chapter 11. I want to make sure I stay several outlined chapters ahead of myself. Who knows, maybe when you see chapter 11 I'll have the entire story outlined. It could happen. I know what happens, generally, in this one, but I have a couple of the finer details to work out. Rest assured, this plot is always at the forefront of my mind, so I won't abandon this. Please review!

Fun Note: The last chapter's title was inspired by "Little Lies" by Fleetwood Mac.

Fun Note 2: So, for Christmas, one of my gifts was the PS3 version of Batman: Arkham Asylum… I put a little shout-out to that game in here. Did anyone catch it?


	11. Your Guardian Angel

A/N- Sorry for the super long wait, guys! I know I took time off to outline this, but I'll be honest… I've outlined, but not half as much as I wanted to. Instead, I ended up completely outlining another one of my fanfics. But! I thought I'd come back to this one and work on it a bit as I go. Also, personally, I've had a hard go of it recently, but I'm not going to go into it all here. And, you know how I've been using song titles as the titles of the chapters, but would you all like me to start using quotes from the songs above the chapters as well? I'd go back and add in quotes for all the previously uploaded chapters. Just a thought. Also, sorry for any reviews that have gone unreplied to. I've kind of lost track of those from last chapter. I'll make it up this time around. Well, enjoy this chapter, and I'll be sure to try and update this one again soon!

* * *

Chapter 11- Your Guardian Angel

The little television that Commissioner Gordon kept on the rolling stand blared within the office. It faced them from its place at blocking the front door.

"Right now, authorities are trying to mask a panic rising within the people of Gotham. They assure us that they have the situation under control," the newswoman said, her voice sounding out from a live image of Arkham Asylum.

She sounded skeptical. Gordon rubbed a hand over his mustached face and clicked the power button on the television's remote. Turning to his three guests in the room, he shook his head.

"He's out again," was all the commissioner of the Gotham PD could manage at the moment. But it was enough.

"How long ago did he break out? How did he do it this time, Jim?" Gotham's Dark Knight, the Batman, asked as he lifted a single leaf of paper off the desk he stood by.

Batman's eyes flew over the paper, lifting a moment later to stare back at Gordon as he waited for his reply.

"He had keys, they say," Gordon said, gesturing to the report in the Dark Knight's hand.

"Where did he get keys?" Robin asked, moving around his two companions, the tone of his voice suggesting another question altogether—something closer to, "who was stupid enough to let that happen?"

"He got them from the orderly," Batman answered, tossing the paper aside.

"Orderly?" Nightwing asked as he reached out, snatching the paper up before Robin could.

"He used an unconscious orderly, a new girl that was hired a little while ago, to keep the guards from firing on him. He left with her, using her keys to pretty much grab whatever it was he wanted," Gordon sighed, falling back into his desk's chair.

"He took her with him? We haven't found a body yet?" Batman asked.

It was a hard question, but an expected one. Gordon shook his head. "As morbid as it sounds, I think some of the newer members of the department were taking bets on how long it would be before the poor girl's grinning corpse would be found. Joker has exceeded all the guessed times now."

Gordon glanced at his watch a moment before adding, "It's been five hours since she was taken."

"She's a hostage," Robin said, confusion all over his masked face.

"But why? Does she have any influential family? Mob connections?" Nightwing asked, finally handing the report off to Robin. "They didn't mention her name in this report."

"That's because we didn't have anyone to identify her until an hour ago. She doesn't seem to have any family that we can contact whatsoever. And no friends. Seems she just moved to Gotham around the time she started working at Arkham."

Nightwing raised a brow. "What's the name they gave you?"

Gordon shifted through a stack of papers on his desk, finally withdrawing the one he was looking for.

"Dawn," he said. "Dawn Winters. The only picture we have of her is the one on her laminate, and a couple of shots caught by cameras as Joker was leaving."

Gordon handed Batman an enlarged photo as he stood and popped a tape into the television's VCR. Robin leaned up to see the photo in Batman's hands, but Nightwing had glued his eyes to the television. A moment later, a black and white image of the Joker filled the screen, showing him as he held Dawn by one of his arms on her feet as her head lolled about, backing away from a line of armed Arkham guards. Nightwing visibly paled. Gordon raised his brow.

"What is it?"

Batman and Robin both turned at Gordon's question, all eyes falling on Nightwing. But Nightwing only shook his head.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

Gordon seemed a little less than convinced, but he cut the VCR off and sighed.

"She seems like a kid… a little younger than my Barbara. Surely someone is missing her. I don't know what the Joker has planned for her, but I don't think we want to know."

"One thing is for certain. With the Joker, it won't be a simple hostage situation. He has a plan for her… I'm just not sure what it could be," Batman said.

"You officially know everything I do," Gordon said, putting his back to Gotham's personal vigilantes. When he turned back, nothing occupied the space of his office but the fluttering of the shades in the evening breeze. Gordon sighed.

"And he's off."

…

"What was that about?" Batman asked as he, Robin, and Nightwing stopped one rooftop away from Commissioner Gordon's office.

Nightwing ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. With a long sigh, he finally locked eyes his mentor.

"I know the girl," was all he could say.

Batman lifted a brow. "How?"

"She lives in my building. I was teaching her Judo."

Robin blinked. "You mean, the girl Barbara saw you with?"

Nightwing nodded. Batman put his back to the group. After a few moments, he reached for his grappling hook, simply standing a moment with it poised in his hand.

"Do you think this has to do with us? With Dick Grayson, rather than this girl?" Batman asked.

"No. It couldn't. But I couldn't tell you what it would have to do with her either."

"What do you know about her?" Batman asked, turning back to him.

"Not much. Just what she told me during training."

"Can you remember it? All of it?"

Nightwing nodded. Robin chuckled.

"Of course he can. Don't you remember what Barbara said, Batman? She said he so obviously had a crush on this girl."

The smallest of growls escaped Nightwing, but he said nothing more. Batman nodded.

"We'll get her back. But in the meantime, why don't you try to figure out what Joker wants her in the first place?"

Without waiting for a response, Batman fired off his grappling gun, and swung from sight, followed shortly by Robin. Nightwing waited a moment longer, worry twisting his insides. Finally, he sighed.

"What don't we know about you, Dawn? What don't _I_ know?" he muttered, moments before departing the rooftop as well.

* * *

End Notes: Okay, so I know this chapter was a little bit short, but I always knew it would be. I should have warned you about that last chapter I updated, but… sorry. Also, sorry that there wasn't any Joker or Dawn in this one. They'll be back next chapter, count on it.

Fun Fact: Last chapter's title was based on the Breaking Benjamin song, "Dance with the Devil."


	12. Glow

A/N- Okay, so the wait for this chapter was a little longer than I wanted it to be. I literally, like, had to make a chart to incorporate all my upcoming writing projects and deadlines. I mean, I already had a separate chart for short story deadlines, but this one that I just made is for the big projects and some near small ones—like the three to four novellas I'm due to write by the end of this summer/beginning of this fall. Anyway, the reason I'm telling all of you this, is that I included the completion of two of my fanfics into that timeline. This one, and a Castlevania fic of mine called "Trials." Now, I have it broken down into tasks I need to complete by day… but I don't expect to be able to stick to it every single day. I mean, I just started it, and I'm already a day behind—I was supposed to be writing this one a day earlier. However, if a task doesn't get completed, I'm not bumping the entire chart down a day… I'm adding the uncompleted tasks to the tasks I have set to complete for that next day. Why am I telling you all this? It is because I want you all to know that even if you aren't hearing from me, I'm still here, and I'm still working… a chapter just might not have been on the chart for that day. Anyhow, thanks for the great reviews last chapter! I hope this next one doesn't disappoint.

* * *

Chapter 12- Glow

Dawn's stomach was tight, and she was more than fairly certain that her arms and legs were bruised in several places from playing the ball to the bouncing truck's pinball machine. And it did not help that she could feel the rough ropes that Joker had used to bind her to the world's most uncomfortable chair rubbing every sore spot on her—arms and legs. She blinked, feeling her eyelashes catch the blindfold that Joker had put on her several minutes ago. She had no idea why she needed to be blindfolded. It was not like she knew Gotham's layout by heart. But, then again, the demented clown did not know that. Tired already from being tied and bouncing in the back of a truck, it did nothing to ease her aching to be suddenly tied and bouncing in a chair as Joker had drug her from the truck to wherever the hell they were now.

"Now, then," Joker said suddenly, as if listening to her moaning thoughts.

She felt the blindfold move, and a second later it fell from her eyes. The shock of the bright—florescent?—lights on her eyes made her gasp and shut them as tight as possible. A couple of test flutters later had them adjusted, and Dawn shook her head.

"Surprise! Home sweet home!" Joker said, standing a foot or so from her, his arms thrown joyfully into the air.

Dawn lifted a brow. Joker was no longer in his Arkham clothing, instead in the purple suit and spats he was so well known for. She figured he must have grabbed them on the way out of the asylum, since he had had her keys. She groaned, that fact suddenly smacking her in the face. She had practically given him free reign of Arkham. Of course he had been able to grab a delivery truck and hightail it here with her.

She tore her eyes from his pasty grinning face and looked around. The building she was in was nothing special. It looked like an old factory of some sort, long since shut down and abandoned. Broken down machinery and dusty floors were all she could see from her place. Joker let out a long cackle.

"Like the place, kiddo? It's a place I was scouting the last time, before the Bat caught me. It's not much, but with a little touch of love here and there, we could make it work."

Dawn did not like the way he so causally used "we." The Clown Prince now danced—quite literally—around her chair, stopping after a cycle or two to kneel beside her.

"Yes, yes… a dash of red here and there… maybe some glowing green stuff… We could definitely come to love the place. Oh, but we'll need a bigger place when we have kiddies… That is, if you want kids. We haven't discussed that yet. But all in good time!"

He let out another long, maniacal laugh. Dawn shook her head. It was obvious what he was doing, even to her rather untrained eye. He was mocking her. Mocking everyone else, really. Mocking what most people wanted out of a life. It was weak, but there was only one thing she could manage to mutter in response.

"You're crazy."

His laughter died down to giggles before it finally died completely. He stood up, his hand still on the back of her chair, and his unnatural grin forcibly turned upside down.

"Oh, my dear Dawnie. Dawn, Dawn, Dawn, Dawn, Dawnie," he said, shaking his head.

Without any preamble, he snaked a foot behind the front legs of the chair and knocked them upward. Dawn cried out in surprise as Joker caught the back of her chair just before her head could collide with the cement. Now he was grinning above her, and for some reason, it was rather hard for her to breathe.

"You and I are going to have some fun here. You see, I still don't know why you glow, honey. But even here, outside of Arkham, I can _see_ it. A bright green halo of light all over you…"

He took his free hand and ran it, almost reverently, down her cheek. She jerked her head away. She was getting dizzy, and her breathing was not getting any easier. But Joker only chuckled.

"You see, that little, ahem, betrayal back at Arkham was such a bad, bad, _bad_ thing, Miss Winters."

Was he still on that? Dawn could hardly believe it. She had heard it from a lot of her coworkers, some of Joker's "quirks." One of which had been that he never lets the little things so. She had even overheard one of the doctors on staff theorizing that that was why he was so fixated on Batman… that the Batman had done something—something that any normal person would have forgotten easily—to him. Dawn had not put any thought into that. Obviously… she should have.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Joker scoffed, setting her chair upright. "And you think that'll get you off the hook? Oh, sweet, you really _aren't_ from Gotham, are you?"

"I told you why I glow. I _told_ you. I swear, it's nothing more than that. I'm a mystical Key."

Joker waved a hand at her dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I heard you the first time. You didn't quite touch on why only the crazies could see it."

She shook her head. "I don't know why. It's just the way it's always been."

Joker arched a brow. "The way it's always been?"

Dawn did not like the way he repeated that. She swallowed, hard, and wiggled within her ropes—bruises be damned. Joker had put his back to her now, reaching for a long table Dawn had not put thought into before. It was covered by a long white cloth and clearly had something underneath it—like a doctor's surgical tray. Now Dawn really struggled. Joker grinned at her from over his shoulder as he pulled the table closer to himself. He moved to stand behind it and seemed to be truly relishing in the fear welling up in her. With a flourish, he removed the white cloth in one pull.

It was like something right out of a horror film. She was never going to scoff at the screaming leading-lady ever again. Because it was everything Dawn could do not to scream… and nothing had really happened yet.

The tabletop was covered from one end to the other with every surgical instrument imaginable—and some the Joker had just made up or added. A chainsaw and a plunger had found their way amongst the scalpels and handsaws, as well as rubber chickens, nasty looking liquids, and a car battery. Feet bound together or not, Dawn put them to the floor as best she could, trying with all her might to push the chair back—to put as much distance between herself and that table as possible. The Joker was laughing again, rounding the table to put a single hand on the back of the chair once again, stopping all of her efforts.

"No," Dawn whispered, and she hated the fear that seemed to be spewing from her.

Joker knelt beside her, his eyes going back and forth between the table and her.

"You know, we could have avoided this. All you had to do is tell me why you glow," he said.

"I've told you! I've told you everything I know, I swear!"

Well, that wasn't exactly true. But she figured that Joker would not care about monks or a dead hell-god, or a spell that could not be performed anymore. And she had volunteered enough information at the moment.

"Yes," Joker hissed, standing and moving back to the table. "Yes, you told me that you're a Key."

"That's right. Honestly," Dawn said, trying her to use her best "reasoning" voice.

She knew that it would not work.

Joker stopped just behind the table and lifted a scalpel up so that she could see it. He ran a thumb over the blade, and Dawn could not contain the gasp that followed as she watched a drop of blood—_his_ blood, the whole damn reason she was in this predicament—well up and get absorbed through the cloth of his glove—which had also been sliced. He eyed her for a moment, an odd look coming over his face. It lasted for all of a single moment before he walked back to her, scalpel still in hand.

"I'm a Key," she said evenly. "That's all there is to it."

"There are a lot of funny things about keys, Dawnie," he said, leveling the blade at her left cheek.

He applied the tiniest bit of pressure to it. Enough so she could feel it, but not enough for it to cut. She glared up at the clown.

"Really?" she snapped.

"Yeah. Like, a Key, on its own, isn't really complete."

Dawn arched a brow. "How do you figure?"

"Well," he said, adding a bit more pressure—and now she could feel the bite of a sting as it cut, followed immediately by a warmth running down her face, "you see a Key isn't even necessary without a lock."

She didn't like where this was going. Not at all.

"And I don't know what lock you go two, my little green Key," he said, pulling down on the scalpel.

Dawn could not hold back the gasp that followed that bit of pain. His grin widened.

"So I'm not going to stop, Dawnie dearest, until I know what lock you go to," he finished, holding the blood-covered blade of the scalpel up for her to see.

She stared at him, face set in a resolute stone.

"This is useless. You won't learn anything."

He grinned, bringing the scalpel back down to her other cheek.

"Let's just see about that."

* * *

End Notes: Okay, sorry for another short chapter. I promise, longer chapters are ahead… I just have to do some setting up for what I consider to be the second half of this story. But how was that? I hope that little snippet of what is to come for poor Dawn was interesting. Please review!

Fun Note: Last chapter's title was inspired by the song "Your Guardian Angel," by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.


	13. The Consequence

A/N- And we're back with another chapter. You know, I thought about catching this story's chapter number up with the Castlevania fic I'm working toward finishing… but I think I'll just continue this little back and forth I'm doing with them. Also, I've got three other fanfics I'm going to be starting soon… mostly because I fear that if I don't start them now, they'll leave me and I'll never get to them… but this one and Trials—that CV fanfic—are still top priorities to finish. Meanwhile, I've still got loads of non-fanfic projects that I'm working on, so I'm busy, busy. But I love getting your reviews, thank you for the ones for last chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy this one!

* * *

Chapter 13- The Consequence

This was not good. This was as far away from good that someone could get. Their two week deadline was nowhere near up… but Dawn needed them in the now.

Xander and Willow strode shoulder to shoulder up the castle's halls, not a word spoken between the two as they seemed to move and think as one. Willow clutched the folded newspaper in her hand, letting her arm hang loose at her side as the two finally reached the door to their destination—Giles's room. Without even a knock, they entered.

Giles jumped from his place at the small table he had positioned in one corner of his large room, snapping the musty, green-bound book in his hand shut. Eyes narrowed, he fidgeted with his glasses for a moment, and his first words had a tinge of anger to them.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"This," Willow said, throwing the newspaper to the table.

It landed with a hard _slap_, and Giles lifted it gingerly, as if it might explode. Xander and Willow stayed silent long enough to watch the older man's eyes skim the front article of the paper. Finally, they opened wide in surprise, his lips parting the form the smallest "o" of shock imaginable.

"Good Lord," he whispered. "How did you come across this?"

"We've been keeping an eye on Gotham's news, and that's a copy of their _Evening Gazette_. _This_ evening's, Giles," Xander said, arms folded over each other.

"Why have you been—" the watcher began, only to stop and sigh. "Bloody hell, forget it. The three of us all know why the two of you have been keeping an eye on Gotham's news. But how do we know this is even Dawn?"

"_Joker Escapes Arkham, Kidnapping Orderly_?" Willow quoted the title. "You and I both know that can't, judging on the events of our lives alone, just be coincidence. Besides, they give a name."

"Dawn Winters," Giles murmured as Xander stated it out loud.

"She shouldn't have gone," Willow said in an even tone.

Giles removed his glasses, wiping his forehead with his right sleeve before replacing him. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, sinking back into his chair.

"What would you have had me do? Buffy was being unreasonable about the whole thing, and Dawn didn't want to just sit idly by while her sister lived out the last of her life when there was a _known_ cure out there. And I couldn't blame her."

"The Joker's dangerous," Xander said, but Giles threw up a hand.

"Not to us. You both know that. Look at our resources. Is he formidable? Yes. But enough so that any one of us should have to worry? No."

Xander and Willow exchanged a look. Apparently Giles was not the only one to have had that thought. Shaking his head, he tossed the green-bound book onto the table with a _thud_ and gestured listlessly at it.

"I've been researching the poison that Buffy got hit with, trying to find an answer. Studying its symptoms. I hadn't gotten far when the two of you arrived."

"We've got bigger worries now," Xander said. "Dawn's been snatched by that wacked clown, and Buffy doesn't even know that her sister's been out of country these past days."

"We can't tell her. Her condition is deteriorating. Slowly, but it's the same principle as with any disease. I fear the more stress and worry we place on her, the more it will speed the poison and, in turn, the more it will steal her life. We have to leave Buffy out of this," Giles said.

"I agree. Now let's end this so we can try again, the right way. Tell me how you hid her, Giles. Why is it I can't see her, mystically? And then undo it," Willow said, crossing the room in a couple of strides to take a seat opposite the one Giles was in—readying herself for whatever magic she was about to do.

Giles paled, his eyes searching the room before returning—panicked—to Willow.

"We have a problem with that."

Willow arched a brow. "Why?"

Giles sucked in a soft breath, releasing it slowly. Finally, he shook his head.

"The way I hid her was that I tied her essence solely to her. She isn't leaving mystical traces because they're tied only to her core."

"Goddess," Willow breathed.

"What?" Xander said, taking a tentative step forward. "I don't get it. What does that mean?"

Giles turned to the one-eyed man, shrugging. "You see, most people—whether magically inclined or not—leave little mystical traces behind them everywhere they go, on every item they touch. Like leaving a miniscule bit of their aura everywhere. I made it where Dawn didn't do that. From the moment she left this room after that spell, she became utterly untraceable by mystical means. And I highly doubt that the Joker thought to grab her cell phone as they were leaving Arkham."

Xander was still looking and bit puzzled, and Willow finally smiled a bit sadly.

"It's like trying to dust a crime scene for prints, only to find out that the criminal has burnt off their fingerprints."

Xander's eye widened. Then narrowed as he held up both his hands, shaking his head.

"Wait," he said. "Then why don't we just track the Joker?"

"Crazy people are an exception to a lot of rules, including magical ones. He's nuts, so his aura is too erratic. It would just be a waste of time since it would appear all over the place, moving at the pace of a frightened bunny."

"Plus, he's probably been all over Gotham over time, so it would be hard even if he was sane," Giles added.

"Well, damn," Xander said. "So what do we do?"

Willow sighed and pushed herself out of the chair, resting both her hands on the table.

"We'll have to do this the old fashioned way. We need to head to Gotham."

Xander nodded. "Do I need to gather anyone, Faith or one of the others?"

Giles shook his head. "With Buffy out of commission, and with the supernatural world aware of that fact, we need all the slayers we can get out there dealing with that. I think the three of us will be more than enough to deal with a psychopathic clown."

Willow smiled. "The three of us?"

Giles returned the grin. "You didn't bloody well think I was just going to sit here, now, did you? I sent Dawn to Gotham by herself, and I'm going to make sure she comes back. Besides, maybe by studying the cure…"

"We can know what to expect out of the poison," Willow nodded.

"What are we waiting for then, team? Let's find our 'Miss Winters,'" Xander said, leading the way out of the room.

* * *

End Notes: Another shorty, but like I said, there's some set up to be done for the second half. The pieces are falling into place, however, and I expect the action will be picking up a great deal in the next few chapters. I hope you all enjoyed this one, and I apologize for the lack of Dawn and Joker. They'll be back next time. Well, until then!

Fun Note: Last chapter's title was inspired by the song "Glow," by Nelly Futado.


	14. Monster

A/N- I could mention the wait, but you all know how this song goes. Well, aside from my publishable writings, I'm also currently participating in Twisting the Hellmouth's August Fic-A-Day Challenge. One fic between 300 and 3,000 words for each day in August. So far, I've met every day's challenge—they'll be posted here on starting in September. Oh, and I have a link to a playlist of the songs used for the chapter titles of this fic at the bottom of my profile. It'll be updated as each chapter is posted. The only missing song from the previous posted chapters is "Glow" since they didn't have anything but a thirty second preview. Well, enough of all that. On with the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 14- Monster

Dawn felt sick as her world came back from the blackness of being unconscious. She could feel heat and stinging all over her face, neck, arms, legs, and torso. She wanted to vomit, and she wanted to not look down at herself—to see the damage done. But it was useless as her head lolled down against her will, and she caught sight of the red stains on her pink scrubs. She swallowed hard, fighting down the bile. Had her life taken a different course, or maybe if she had been born in a normal way, she would have been panicked at the prospect of bleeding out. But she knew from experience that they were "shallow cuts," designed to bleed a little for a long time before they finally clotted and stopped. Or until a larger vessel was cut. Whatever happened first.

She forced the muscles of her neck to work, pulling her head upright. She felt dizzy, which was never a nice compliment to nauseous. She was not sure how long she had been out, or even when she had finally just lost consciousness. She moaned, forcing her eyes open a little wider. The first thing that registered in her vision was the Joker's grinning visage as he sat, reclined in a rolling chair, his feet propped up on the table of instruments while he wiped a pocketknife clean.

"Oh, nice to see you awake, sleepy-head," he said, pulling his spats back down to the ground.

Dawn wanted to cry, and the tears were already in her eyes. But she sucked in a deep—and painful—breath, holding them back with all her might. Her sister was the slayer, for God sakes. Surely she could take a little torture.

Joker swung his blade at her, way too far away to actually touch her, and she had to bite her lip—hard—to still the whimper in her throat. He chuckled.

"Stop," she said and was ashamed to hear that it sounded like begging. "I don't know anything else."

"I figured you might say that. That's why I brought out the ol' geek in me," he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the table.

Dawn drew her attention away from the knife in his hand and put it on the table. She could see the instruments he had used on her, which had mostly been the scalpel and the knife. But the rubber chicken—the butt of which held several unused soap bars—had gotten a couple of hits in and now had red stains on parts that should have been yellow. But for the first time she was noticing other things like microscopes, beakers, vials, and other science-y type stuff. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head at the clown.

"What did you do?"

"I examined your blood while you were out. See, it's just no fun to hit and cut if you're not screaming away… or trying not to, as the case may be," he explained, making his way over to the microscope to withdraw a used slide.

"You're sick."

"And you're nice to say so. You know, some people get off on stuff like this."

Dawn felt her urge to vomit return. Joker laughed loudly as he held up the slide.

"You see, medically speaking, there's not one weird thing about your blood. Not so much as a green blood cell, let alone glowing. Which, I gotta say, I was disappointed when I first cut you and nothing green and bright leaked out. Just the same old boring red stuff as the rest of us. Nope, nothing special about your blood. Or your skin. Or even your hair."

Dawn growled, annoyed—and again, queasy at the thought of him taking "samples" from her. When was this stupid madman going to get the picture? He laughed at her again, patting the top of her head.

"You're so adorable when you're helpless, you know."

"You're not going to find anything out about why I glow through _science_. I'm a _mystical_ Key."

"So you've said, Dawnie, dearest. So you've said."

He walked over to her, leaning down so that his face was, once again, uncomfortably close to hers. He lifted his pocketknife—she had forgotten about it for just a moment—and pressed it, sharp-side, against her cheek. She could feel a fresh stream of blood down her cheek again and watched in horror as a new gleam flashed in his eyes.

"Stop," she whispered.

"Make me."

She wiggled against her ropes, but they had gained no slack. And in some spots, close to her cuts, they hurt even more. She hissed, sucking in a breath at the pain. Joker did not move.

"What _are_ you?"

"Damn it, I'm telling you the truth!" she shouted suddenly, sick of this mind game.

He pulled back, looking mildly impressed at her outburst. He crossed his arms, careful with the knife as he did so, and arched a brow at her.

"But are you telling me the _whole _truth?"

She bit her lip, and he grinned triumphantly, turning to snatch the chicken up from the table.

"I'd start getting real gabby, if I were you, Dawnie."

She pursed her lips together, resilient. He sighed, shrugging.

"All right."

He swung the butt of the chicken directly into her face, knocking her head to the side as she cried out. He stopped, giving her just a second to say something. Still, she remained silent. He swung it from the other side now, garnering the same effect. She kept her silence, taking blow after blow from the chicken. After a few minutes, when he got bored, he switched back to the knife, cutting straight lines from her shoulder to her elbow on both her arms.

Joker was getting angry. She could see it in his eyes. At last, with a frustrated growl, he stepped behind her chair, shoving the knife to her throat.

"Let me explain something to you, girly," he said, pressing it into her skin as hard as possible without cutting her.

Dawn knew it was not possible, but she could have sworn she had stopped breathing.

"I'm getting bored. And when I get bored, my toys tend to get _broken_."

He shoved the knife a little closer, and she could feel its familiar bite.

"All right!" she shouted. "All right! I was made from a mystical ball of green light called the Key! I wasn't even born right! A group of monks was protecting the Key from this hell-bitch of a hell-god, and they had to hide it. They used a spell to take make memories and take DNA and whatever to make me."

The knife dropped from her throat, and she sighed. Memories flooded her mind as she revisited the time when her blood _did_ mean something to the Key. She had a flash of Buffy telling her that she was made from "Summers' blood," and a single tear finally rolled free. She took a deep breath, glaring up at the Clown Prince as he circled around to eye her strangely.

"Don't suppose you'll let me go now?"

He laughed. "Now _that's_ funny."

He paused, thoughtful for a moment with his eyes locked on her. Finally, he shook his head.

"I'm impressed. You see, I expected you to be hysterical by now. Absolutely coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs, if you get my meaning."

"But?"

"But you're not. I thought, for just a second when you were spewing all that stuff about monks and such, that you'd finally flipped your lid. But no."

He knelt down now, propping his hands on his knees. "You're actually telling me the truth, aren't you, my dear?"

She shook her head. "What do you want from me?"

"You know what I want. You're a Key, by your own definition, kiddo. That means you've got to open something. You tell me what, and this will all stop."

"I don't open anything. Not anymore. You're way too late for that, Joker."

"I think you're lying."

"I'm not. I swear. I don't open anything anymore."

He _tsk_ed disapprovingly, standing.

"Then let's start again," he said, letting the light gleam off his knife.

…

Unseen by either the Joker or by the Key, a grinning woman stood on the shadowed catwalk above them. She was dressed in scrubs similar to Dawn's, her curly blonde hair hanging loose tonight. She frowned as she watched the Joker take another slice at Dawn, shaking her head.

Things were moving too fast with too little progress for her liking. She had hoped that the clown would be able to extract information about the Key _from_ the Key using his… _unique_ methods, allowing her to maintain her cover. But the girl was proving too resilient. At this rate, she would be dead before anything new could be learned.

The onlooker sighed, plucking her Arkham employee laminate—which clearly listed her as Alisha, Senior Orderly—from her shirt. Her cover had been good, but she could not afford to take the risk that the Joker would kill Dawn.

"Well, I was tired of this gender confusion anyhow," she muttered.

She followed the statement up with a series of words in Latin. The effect was instantaneous as "she" felt her limps stretch and plump, "her" hair grow in to a short, close cut—still retaining the same bright, blond color—and her clothes morph into a smart, navy blue suit.

Now, instead of Alisha on the catwalk, William Cane—inventor of poisons, poisoner of the Chosen One, and un-credited creator of the Clown Prince—stood in "her" place. Being dead had been such a good cover, coupled with that of being a young, female orderly. But the time for covers was over. If he wanted to learn about the Key, he would have to intervene, or the girl—that sweet little vessel for the Key—would be dead. And he could not afford to lose such a precious potions ingredient.

* * *

End Notes: Mind trip! How did everyone like that little reveal at the end? Confused? A little weirded out? Good, then my work is done. I'll try to hurry it up with the next chapter, but that's depending on how my updates look on that CV fic. Please review!

Fun Notes: Last chapter's title was inspired by the song, "The Consequence" by The Black Ghosts.


	15. Anything But Ordinary

A/N- So I recently participated in Twisting the Hellmouth's 2011 August Fic-A-Day—31 fics in 31 days. I won! Actually, I was among 6 winners. I was so freakin' happy. I'm also slowly posting those one-shots here on FF dot net. Anyhow, onto the topic at hand—this chapter! Oh, and that little scene at the very end of last chapter? We'll be getting back to that… just not in this chapter. I hope everyone enjoys!

* * *

Chapter 15- Anything But Ordinary

Nightwing perched on the ledge of the roof of a small diner, overlooking one of the many streets right in the middle of downtown Gotham. His lips were pursed, and he kept lifting a small pair of binoculars to his eyes listlessly. Every time he removed them from his eyes, it was with a small growl.

It had been eight hours since Dawn had been taken from Arkham. Nightwing had scoured all of his resources trying to find out whatever he could on Dawn Winters. And he had given Batman all the information he had had on her, which was not much. She had told him that her name was Dawn Winters. She had taken Judo. Her mother and father were divorced. Her mother was dead. She was raised by her sister, Buffy. She was an honors student both in high school and college. And she was originally from California.

A small, sad grin formed on his face as other little facts rose to mind. She had not been allowed to watch horror films at twelve, and when she had broken that rule she ended up leaving on the lights while she slept. She smelled like strawberries, and her laugh was like music. And she had been through some sort of hard time. Something that had caused her to slit her own wrists.

Nightwing had kept those tidbits to himself.

His resources had had nothing on the young woman. Now it was up to Batman.

Almost as if he had been listening in on his fellow vigilante's thoughts, Nightwing heard a beep in his ear, letting him know that his mentor was trying to communicate with him. He lightly pressed a finger to the link, letting out a gruff, "Yeah."

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Batman's familiar voice rumbled into his ear.

"I could really use some good news right now."

"Everything that you told me about Winters was true."

Nightwing's eyes widened. "What?"

"Everything she said about having a sister, taking Judo, being an honor student, it was all true. However—"

Nightwing groaned. "I was afraid of that."

"However, it was all true of a girl by the name of Dawn Summers who lived in a town called Sunnydale with older sister Buffy Summers, mother Joyce, father Hank."

"Wait. Sunnydale? Wasn't there something about that town on the news some time ago?"

"I should think so. It's now a crater. Not so much as the 'Welcome to' sign is still standing. And rumors persist that big sister Buffy had something to do with it."

"Whoa. Wait. Batman, how could any one person turn a whole town into a crater and their involvement in it be nothing but a 'rumor'? I mean, is this Buffy Summers a cape or something?"

"I've already checked that with the Justice League. They've never heard of her before. They're doing a bit more searching on the matter, just in case she's just one we haven't come across yet."

Nightwing stood upon the ledge of the roof, looking down at the small sedan that had pulled alongside the road to park. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze skyward.

"I can't believe it. Why would Dawn tell me true things… but leave out that she came from a town that's now nonexistent?"

"Obviously, she was hiding something. Everyone's got a secret. You of all people should know that."

Batman was right. But that fact did nothing to ease the small pain gnawing at Nightwing's insides.

"That's not all," the Dark Knight added. "I ran her name through some databases that I hacked. Turns out, our government has a red flag raised on Buffy."

"Why?"

"My question exactly. I haven't been able to crack the file to read it. Whatever it is, they want to make sure it stays as top secret as possible."

Nightwing gave a wry smile. "That's never stopped you before."

"And I don't intend to let it now. Nightwing… if there's anything else you can tell me that can help me pinpoint more about this Dawn Summers… now's not the time to hold back."

It was one of the reasons most people either loved or hated Batman: his keen insight. Nightwing had given no indication that he had held back information. He had been trained by the best to lie with the best. But the Dark Knight saw right through him. Nightwing was not sure if that put the man on his personal "love" or "hate" lists at the moment.

"She attempted suicide once. Her mother took her to the hospital for it. There should be records somewhere of it, crater or not. And her mother died of an aneurysm."

"I'll keep looking. We'll find her, Nightwing."

"Before or after the Joker kills her?"

It was grim, and it drew nothing but silence as its immediate reply. With a groan, Nightwing changed the subject.

"What about the clown? Any leads on him? None of my sources have anything."

"Joker was careful this time," the Dark Knight said. "Not a single clue left behind to indicate where he has her hidden. We _will_ find her, Nightwing. Batman out."

Nightwing shook his head, looking out across the many rooftops ahead of him. He pulled a grappling gun, aimed it easily, and fired.

"Who _are_ you, Dawn?" he muttered just moments before swinging into the night.

…

The diner's bell rang as Giles and Xander—with a sandwich—exited the building. They made a beeline for the black sedan they had rented upon arriving in Gotham, Giles taking the driver's seat while Xander piled in behind him. Both slammed their doors harder than necessary, causing Willow to look up from the giant, musty tome that set open in her lap. She arched one brow over at Giles.

"Well, I've had no luck," Willow noted, snapping her book shut. "Every mention of that spell in this book says that it can only be removed when the subject is standing with you or you know their location. And for good reason, since it's made to hide you from mystical sight. What did you guys learn?"

Giles swiped his glasses off his face as if they were the subject of his agitation. He wiped at the lenses so hard that Willow thought, for a moment, that he might crack one. However, they went unharmed as the former watcher jabbed a thumb in the direction of the diner.

"Jeremy says that nothing mystical has beeped up on the Mystical Ether Net. So we can assume that Dawn's still among the living."

"And that's it?"

Giles nodded. Willow could see the cause of his annoyance. That little bit of information was little comfort.

Xander stuck his head in between the two in the front, looking to each of them.

"How does that mean that Dawn's all right?"

"Usable or not, she's still the Key. And if the vessel that houses the Key is killed, then magic users everywhere would be able to feel it. Most would likely not feel it enough to note if one wasn't paying attention… but they'd feel it somehow. Jeremy said that he would keep an eye out for us."

"Well, not a glimmer of Keyness… that's a good thing, right?" Xander asked.

"It _does_ mean she's still alive," Giles nodded.

Willow's mouth pulled downward into a deep frown. "But 'alive' and 'all right' are two very different things."

No one responded to that for a long while. Finally, Giles nodded toward Willow's tome.

"Not a thing we can us at all?"

"Not a damn thing."

With barely a look, she tossed the book behind her, narrowly missing Xander as it landed on the seat beside him. She muttered an apology, and he waved it off.

"I thought that there'd be _some_ sort of mystical thing I could do once I got here. But I guess we really are gonna have to do it the old fashioned way. Clues, sources, all of it. Very Sherlock Holmes."

Xander half-grinned. "Very Scooby."

Willow could not help but smile. Giles reached for the keys, starting their vehicle.

"Then we all know where we have to go now," he noted.

"But it's way past visiting hours. How are we going to pull that off?" Willow asked.

"I have a friend who works at the asylum. That's how I managed to get Dawn an interview so quickly."

"You don't mean…?" Xander said, leaning forward again. "We're going to Arkham to—?"

"To talk to someone who knows the Joker better than anyone," Giles confirmed.

"Harley Quinn," Willow nodded as the trio made their way toward Arkham.

* * *

End Notes: Because every time I do a Joker fic, Harley's got to have a cameo at least. Don't worry, I'm not going to pull a Harlequinnaide on you (everyone remembers that episode of the animated series, right?). Also, sorry for the shortness again. The next chapter should be a bit longer. And have Dawn and Joker back.

Fun Fact: Last chapter's title was inspired by "Monster" by Lady Gaga. I was trying not to use two song titles by the same artist in this fic, but that one just fit so well.


	16. The Grand Illusion

A/N- Busy, busy, pulling deadlines off at the last possible moment. Take it from me, folks. Don't let the procrastinator win. Believe me. Also, people keep quitting at the job I work at, so I've been working hard there. Pays the bills. Also, I'm still trying to finish up that Castlevania fic, Trials. It's so close to being done. But I felt bad for not coming back to this one for so long. So, here you go! Thanks for all the reviews on that last chapter, and I hope you all enjoy this one!

* * *

Chapter 16- The Grand Illusion

It was surreal. Surreal enough to make Dawn believe that she _had_ snapped, but the twinges of pain every now and again made it feel solid. The Joker—the crazy who had done all the cuts and bruising to her—was now patching her up. She inhaled, trying to keep herself awake, and she smelled the faint after-scent of burning hair. To her left, she could still see the jumper cables he had used an hour or so ago to electrocute her.

Had it been an hour? Longer? Shorter? Dawn was not really sure at the moment as Joker poured a bit of rubbing alcohol onto a cut. She cried out with the shock of the intense stinging, and Joker clucked his tongue at her.

"Now, now, Dawnie. We have to get you all healed up," he said in an eerily soothing voice.

Dawn groaned as he applied some gauze to the knife wound he had just sterilized.

"Can't have you dying on me before I figure out what you're for," he sing-songed.

Her head lolled as she let out another groan. It had been the same throughout the entire torture process. Pain, then: "What do you open, my little Key?" When she did not answer, more pain. Then, another question followed in some variation of the same thing: "Where's your door at? What are you hiding behind your lock?"

Some of the questions sounded vaguely suggestive, and Dawn was sure that that was part of the torture. The thought of anything sexual coming from the psychotic clown made Dawn want to vomit. She had no idea what Harley saw in this guy. Unless, and she thought this with a horrible lurch occurring in her stomach, Harley was into heavy BDSM.

Her head was getting fuzzy. Harley/Joker BDSM thoughts were proof of that. Some more stinging occurred as Joker sterilized another wound. Dawn only hissed at that one, and Joker let out a loud, one-shot cackle.

"I hate you," she muttered.

He patted her head like she was a cat or something.

"I know."

Dawn groaned again, casting her gaze about the room. She wanted to look at something, _anything_, but that grinning visage. In the distance, far, far off, she thought she saw a door. But this was a huge warehouse if the height of the ceiling was any indication. For all she knew, it was probably just the doorway into another room. With the Joker quiet now, and her grunts and groans of pain under control, Dawn could hear the steady buzzing of the florescent lights above her. It was calming. A constant in a world that seemed out of control. For a moment, she could focus on that sound and forget. Forget that her sister's life was depending on her getting some of this sicko's blood. Forget that only Giles knew that she was in Gotham. Forget that not a soul knew that the Joker had kidnapped her.

She was not the baby anymore, to be guarded by big, strong slayers. She had struck out on her own, independent and happy about it. And now, no one was coming to save her. Dawn's throat felt thick, but she swallowed it down. She had given the Joker enough satisfaction with her screams and groans. He would not get her tears as well.

"There!" Joker proclaimed, breaking her thoughts.

Dawn brought her eyes back down to him, watching him toss the first aid items carelessly back onto the little silver tray. Each landed with its own particular type of noise, and Dawn took in as much of herself that she could see. Joker had dressed every wound… had even rubbed something on all of her bruises. Even the ones on her torso, under her scrubs. The thought made her sick all over again, but she shook her head, letting it fall back.

"Now, we'll give those wounds some time to get nice and sturdy… shouldn't be longer than a day or two… and then we'll pick up where we left off," Joker said.

Dawn lifted up just enough to see him take a seat on the desk just across from her. He brought his feet up to the edge of the desk and wrapped his arms about his knees.

"And where was that?" Dawn moaned.

Her eyes were on the lights again. Bright, humming lights.

"Oh, Dawnie girl, you didn't black out for that long. We'll pick up finding out what it is that you open, and how a person works as a Key anyway."

That was it. The breaking point. That one annoying push too far. Every part of her hurt, she felt sick, and all this damn clown cared about was what it was she opened. Dawn's head snapped up, and before she could stop herself, she was screaming at him.

"I told you! I am a mystical Key! A group of monks took a big ball of green light and made it human—made it _me_! A hell god was after it, so they needed to hide it! They sent it to my sister, the Vampire Slayer, using her and my mom's and my dad's DNA to make me!"

Joker, who—from the grimace—obviously did not enjoy being screamed at, pulled out his pocket knife, flipping it open.

"Yes, but what did the god want you for, deary?" he growled.

"To get home!"

Anger was pumping through her now, her blood like fire. She knew this was stupid. She knew that she should know better, that nothing good would come of this. But she couldn't stop.

"She wanted to get back to her home dimension! But my sister kicked her ever-lovin' ass, and she missed her window of opportunity!"

Dawn's chest was heaving, and the pain she was feeling was as constant as the lights' hum, but she pushed it all back. Joker no longer looked angry with her, just intrigued. But that did not matter. She was still pissed at _him_.

"And what opportunity was that?" he asked, his voice levels below hers in calmness.

"A certain time, a certain place. I think it had to do with star alignment and stuff. I did some research after. Every dimension has its own combination… like a…"

But at this, she stopped. She was making herself sick, talking about her essence in such a way. Joker finished the thought with a satisfied grin.

"Like a lock."

Both of them simply stared. Joker had what he wanted now. He did. Dawn knew that. She knew her mistake. But neither moved. Neither made a sound.

So it was very, extra easy to hear the new arrival as he announced, "_Finally_!"

Joker whirled until he was standing beside Dawn, and both were eyeing the figure that entered into the room. He was a plump man in a navy suit with a bright red tie. His hair was a bright blond, closely cut to his head. He was clapping his thick hands together, his lips spread into a happy-go-lucky smile.

"Finally, finally, _finally_," he said, sighing.

Joker crossed his arms, one eyebrow cocked. "And who are you to crash my party?"

"Oh, yes. Where _are_ my manners? My name is William Cane. Inventor of poisons, and your creator, Joker," he said with a sweeping bow.

Joker was not amused, a look that was definitely hard for him to pull off. But Dawn's breath caught in her throat. In the moment of arrogance that was Cane lowering his gaze away from the Joker, Dawn hissed up at her captor.

"Untie me. _Now_. This isn't good."

If Joker heard her, he ignored her as Cane righted himself.

"Okay, Billy," Joker drawled, "why are you _here_? You have exactly—" Joker peered down at the watch on his left wrist, "—one minute to answer me."

"Oh, without delay," Cane grinned. "You see, I poisoned this girl's lovely sister—the Chosen One—some time ago with one of my… more lingering poisons. I knew the girls to be close, and I knew—after much study and surveillance—that this young thing was the Key. Once young Dawn went away to college, I knew this was my chance… but alas, the elder Summers girl still had baby sister under close watch."

"What?" Dawn asked before she could stop. "Buffy didn't have me under surveillance!"

Cane laughed. "Oh, yes, she did. Slayers and Wiccans by your dorm every few hours or so. Or following you around the campus."

Dawn felt her face flush, and she was literally bouncing in her chair, causing it to raise less than an inch off the floor and fall with tiny tapping noises.

"Oh my God, I can't believe this! This is _so_ like Buffy! She swore! She swore she was going to let me go… to let me live my _own_ life! Surveillance? Like I can't walk two feet without help! I'm not a child!"

She stopped. She was suddenly aware that all eyes were on her. She was getting that look again… the one that told her that she needed to stop whatever it was that she was doing _immediately_. She cleared her throat, her eyes lifting to Cane.

"Um, you continue."

"Yes," Cane grinned. "Well, as I mentioned, it was impossible to reach Dawn. So I poisoned her sister. I knew that would bring Dawn flying home, and that it would send her flying to you—her only hope for a cure."

Joker glanced down at Dawn, and his face was the absolute picture of "unreadable."

"Okay," he said. "But you haven't explained why you wanted Dawnie here so badly. I mean, what is it? Attracted to _younger_ women? Also, you might want to touch on, just a little, why I shouldn't just kill you now."

"Like you're one to talk! But no, my desire for Dawn is not so much carnal."

That would have been a relief to Dawn if she was not completely and totally aware of some of the other choices that was left to her.

"I want to make my masterpiece… the finest poison of all time! One that has the ability to kill without an antidote, but also be malleable to do so much more."

Dawn shook her head. "That doesn't make sense."

Cane laughed. "Of course it doesn't. It doesn't exist yet. But to do that, I need the blood of the Key… and I needed to know what it took to work the Key's powers. And what pretty little Dawn just spouted to you was _exactly_ what I needed! Like a lock… all I have to do now is discover what lock I'm looking for. So now, if you don't mind Joker, you've done your work. I'll be taking Dawn now."

Cane took a single step forward, and Joker erupted into his hysterical laughter. He placed a single hand on Dawn's shoulder, shaking his head. With his free hand, he wiped away a fake tear.

"Finders keepers, I'm afraid, Billy boy," Joker said.

Dawn's stomach tightened. At the moment, she was not entirely sure who she would be safer with… but she knew which one had what she needed. So, for this one moment only, she was completely Team Joker.

Cane shook his head. "Oh, but Joker… you've been doing exactly what I wanted you to all along."

And in the next moment, William Cane no longer stood before them. Instead, in a short moment of morphing, there stood Alisha, the Arkham Senior Orderly. In her sweet voice, she laughed and stated, "Well, I needed you to get the information for me. The girl's got a stubborn streak in her a mile long. She'd never give up the information to me… the man who poisoned her sister."

Joker growled as Cane transformed back into himself. Dawn felt the urge to vomit. Alisha? This whole time? Had… Had Cane been disguised as a woman ever since his "death"? These were things that had Dawn both terribly curious and terribly sure she did not really want to know.

"It's easier when everyone thinks you're dead," Cane shrugged. "And as sweet Alisha, I've danced you about my stage like a puppet on a string."

Dawn's inner Xander wanted so badly to utter the word, "Burn!" But Dawn fought it down, figuring that the situation was bad enough. Joker's eyes looked like he could spout flames at any moment. His free hand moved out of Dawn's line of sight, and he flashed a deadly version of his eternal grin at Cane.

"Like a puppet, eh? Well, let's see what happens when the strings get cut!"

A cloud of smoke enveloped Cane, and it was quickly expanding to fill the room. It was a sickly green color, and Dawn was pretty sure it was deadly. She heard the near unmistakable sound of a pair of spats on cement, and she knew that Joker had high-tailed it out of there. And the smoke was making its way toward her—fast.

She wriggled in her ropes, trying her best to loosen them and to ignore the pain they caused her wounds. But it was no use. The smoke was getting closer, obscuring the view of the warehouse more and more. She could no longer see the expanse of the place in front of her.

Before she could turn her head to see if the smoke had encircled her, like a shark about to descend on its prey, something hard and plastic came down over her face. She felt a strap tighten behind her head and her rope loosen. Her hands now free, they flew to her face first.

A gas mask. Someone had put a gas mask on her… and just in time. The smoke was now completely filling the room, and she could hear the faint sound of coughing. She whirled in place, unable to see so much as her hand in front of her face. What _was_ that that the Joker had fired at Cane? She shook her head. It did not matter. What mattered now was getting the hell out of dodge.

Dawn took off in the first direction she picked, and immediately she bounced off something soft, but very solid. Cane, she knew. She quickly backed out of—what she assumed was—his reach and continued on. She ran as hard as she could, one hand holding onto her mask as if it might spontaneously fall off and the other held out in front of her. She had no idea where she was going. For all she knew, she could have been doing circles. Joker was long gone, she knew. But _someone_ had put that mask on her.

"Help!" she called out.

She was only going to chance that once. After all, she did not need Cane—whom she did not doubt in the least would make it through this gas attack—tracking her. But her mysterious savior on the other hand? Yeah, that one could show up at any time now. Hell, all she needed was someone to show her the door.

As if in answer, she felt a hand slip into hers. Shocked, she followed without a sound as this other person led her on. She lost all will to focus on her surroundings, leaving that up to her guide, and instead started to focus on the hand. It was gloved, and it was larger than hers by a decent amount. Cane had been wearing no gloves, neither as himself or as Alisha. And she was sure this was a man. Had someone finally found her? Giles or Xander? Or one of the many, many vigilantes that protected the city? Yes! Maybe Batman or Nightwing had finally found her! Sure that would put a dent into her plan of getting the Joker's blood… but maybe she could talk Batman into understand her need, helping her. Yes… surely Batman would get it. Everything was going to be all right.

And then she reached the cold night air. Without the smoke to cloud her vision, it was clear who her "savior" was. The Joker, one hand in hers, the other firmly holding a gun, pulled her out of the warehouse and shoved her into a nearby car. Shoved her so hard that she landed in the passenger seat, righting herself just in time for Joker to zoom off.

So much for her good fortune. Now she had gone from a hostage in chair, to a hostage in a speeding car… and a gun had been added… that was nice.

Dawn had only seconds to contemplate ducking and rolling out of the car before Joker reached across her, pulling her seatbelt down and buckling her in.

"Play me for a patsy!" he was screeching, driving as manically as he spoke. "Well, we'll see who gets the last laugh!"

Joker's gun waving was getting a little extreme, and Dawn was beginning to wonder if he was even aware that he was holding it. Suddenly, he trained the barrel of the weapon onto her.

"All because of _you_," he hissed.

"Hey! I was just as played as you were!" she shouted.

The gun did not move… but it did not fire either. So Dawn continued.

"It was _my_ sister that Cane poisoned… to get to _me_! I'm just as pissed at him as you are!"

The gun lowered, albeit slightly, and Joker arched a brow.

"So? You're useless now. I know what I wanted to know. I could just kill you here, toss you out into the night."

"And give Cane what he wants?"

That gave the Clown Prince a pause.

"Look," Dawn said—and she knew she was pressing her luck, "let's make a deal. I'll help you kill Cane… but in exchange… I want two vials of your blood."

"My what? My blood?"

Dawn nodded. "It's the cure, Joker. The thing that'll save my sister."

"And what good would _you_ be against that magically maniacal monstrosity? You're just a kid."

Dawn paused, rethinking saying that most of Batman's sidekicks were kids. Instead, she held her hands out in front of herself, cupping them like she was about to scoop water. She muttered a few words in Latin. From a tiny dot of light, a sprout formed in her hand, growing into a beautiful red rose. She let it hang in the air a moment before she tossed it into the Joker's lap. He arched a brow.

"Keep doing stuff like that, and Harley will have your head on a platter," he chuckled.

Dawn ignored his comment. "I'd also want to be kept alive, of course. But you see what I did there? That's magic, Joker. And I can do more. So much more. That's the simplest thing I can do."

"Well, you have been just so _trustworthy_ before," Joker huffed.

"And I'm _still_ more trustworthy than you."

Joker glanced down to the rose in his lap. Finally, he nodded. With one loud cackle, he added, "Deal! Oooh, boy! Aren't we gonna have fun!"

The two of them sped off into the night, and Dawn shook her head.

And Willow thought that spell's only purpose was to look pretty.

* * *

End Notes: I hope everyone enjoyed this! Sorry, again, for the long wait… but this story is very much alive. And I hope that this was worth the wait, at least. Please review!

Fun Fact: Last chapter's title was inspired by "Anything but Ordinary" by Avril Lavigne.


End file.
